


CoSL 11: Hunter's Doom

by Dracophile



Series: Grimm-The Casebook of Sloane Larson [11]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Blood, Case Fic, Explosions, Hunters & Hunting, Murder, mentions of eating people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 05:43:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17719196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracophile/pseuds/Dracophile
Summary: Part 11 of The Case Book of Sloane LarsonWhen a wesen friend of Monroe's turns up dead under strange circumstances, Sloane doesn't believe it's another Grimm but something much worst that could cause problems for all of them. But what annoys her more is having to work with the Blutbad to find the answer--or will they finally find some common ground?





	CoSL 11: Hunter's Doom

**_“And Peter caught the wolf around the tail and stringed him up the tree, just as the hunters tracking the wolf emerged from the woods with their weapons drawn.”_ **

 ---------------------  
**Hunter’s Doom**

\---------------------

“Are you out of your Blutbader mind?” Sloane snapped. “There is no way that’s right.”

“And what do you know about it?” Monroe snapped back.

“I’ve been reading my grandmother’s journals! She was there!”

“So? She didn’t see everything! My Uncle Rolf was there too!”

“Yeah? What side?”

“OH you-” he snarled.

“Okay, ENOUGH!” They both jumped as Rosalee came out from the back room. “What are you two arguing about now?”

Sloane frowned and glared at Monroe. “This guy claims that there was a group of Blutbader working closely with a resistance group made of Keirsheite and wesen, and he thinks it’s the same as the one my Grandmother was part of, Aegis.”

“And…?”

“I call bullshit. Blutbader don’t have the kind of control for espionage work,” she said matter-of-factly.

Monroe glared more. “I’ve controlled myself around you, haven’t I? Considering your personality, I deserve a medal!”

Sloane glared back at him and Rosalee sighed and bravely got between them. “Guys, stop, okay.”

“She started it!”

“You two will take any excuse to argue!” Rosalee shot back. “You argue over wesen things, you argue over Grimm things, over history, over food—you argued over how to pronounce Turmeric!”

Sloane smirked. “Actually, I admit, that was mostly just to mess with him. He got so defensive.”

Monroe growled softly and Rosalee shot her an annoyed look. “Regardless, you are my boyfriend,” she patted Monroe’s chest, “and one of Nick’s best friends. And you are one of my best friends,” she put a hand on Sloane’s shoulder, “as well as Nick’s and his fellow Grimm, and we share a lot of other friends. I know we would all really like you two to get along.”

They looked at one another a moment before Sloane snorted. “Considering we don’t actually try and kill one another, I think we get along well enough.”

“Yeah, that’s probably as good as we’re going to get,” Monroe said. “I’m not really scared of her now. You’re sister DeEtta scares me more.”

Sloane narrowed her eyes. “That sounds like a challenge…”

“Sloane, no,” Rosalee sighed. Sloane pouted but Rosalee held up a bag. “Here you go, I got the salve ready for you,” she said, changing the subject. She handed her a bag with a heavy jar inside.

“Thanks.”

“You go through that really fast you know…”

“Dangerous job,” she said simply. Rosalee frowned but Sloane smiled. “I’ll try to be more careful.” Rosalee smiled and gave her a little hug, noting happily Sloane didn’t tense anymore when she did. She even patted her back in reciprocation. “See you later Rosalee.”

“See you later.”

Sloane turned and headed back out of the shop.

Monroe huffed and looked up at Rosalee. “I was trying to be nice and make conversation. She always takes everything I say as something to defend against though. She’s never going to like me.”

Rosalee smiled and patted his shoulder. “It’s not you exactly, it’s just…she has a hard time with trusting Blutbad. It took her a while to trust me, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was months ago and now your “best friends”. And Nick and I get along fine, so I don’t think it’s a Grimm instinct or something.”

“It’s just a Sloane thing. When she’s ready she’ll trust you. But until then, I love you enough for a dozen people.”

He smiled. “Only a dozen?”

“Don’t be greedy,” she chuckled, kissing his cheek.

\-------------------

Sloane was just pulling up towards her apartment when her phone rang. She answered without a second thought, much different than before her move to Portland. “Larson.”

“Hey, Sloane. We got a case,” Hank said.

She sighed. It was busier being a detective than just a Grimm, that was for sure. “I just got home…”

“Sorry, but it came in kind of suddenly and we’re the only ones able to take it.”

She huffed but resigned herself. “Yeah, okay. Where at?”

“Your favorite hangout. The woods. I’ll text you where to head.”

“Right, see you guys in a bit then.”

Setting the salve on the floorboard of her backseat, she pulled back out of the parking area and followed the directions to a road out in the woods. She saw a red-cabbed big rig parked up ahead but ignored it for now. There was a crime scene quartered off already and she stepped out and over the tape without any worry being stopped. Several yards beyond the trees from the road, Nick and Hank were gathered around looking at something on the ground, and she paused when she realized it was a huge hole, about as long as a body. For a second she felt a bit of panic, before she remembered the only body she’d buried lately was much deeper in the woods. _That Muse isn’t going to be found anytime soon…_

“Hey,” Nick nodded as she walked up.  “We got an odd one…”

She knew that was him silently asking if she thought it was wesen related, but peering into the hole she rather doubted it. They had a body in the shallow grave, only buried about four feet down. It was a man, in his mid-forties, white with a spray of stubble across his jaw and hair that probably seen better days before it was half covered in dirt. His body, lying under the head, was wearing a flannel jacket stained red around the neck and shoulders and a pair of jeans and work boots. However, he also looked fairly fresh. She didn’t see any outward sing of decay.

“He hasn’t been dead all that long…”

“ME on scene estimates maybe less than a day,” Nick said. “Our would-be grave digger was interrupted it seems before sunrise this morning. Long haul trucker driving by saw him through the trees in the act, thought it was weird.”

“Bit of an understatement…” Sloane said.

“The car parked off the side of the road in the middle of the night thing was weird, he did not anticipate the headless corpse in the hole,” Wu supplied. “Although I guess he’s not fully headless since we have his head…point is, Mr. Uccello nearly had a heart attack, quite literally thanks to staying up way late driving on several energy drinks. He’s over in the ambulance and is okay enough to talk.”

The detectives nodded and headed over to the ambulance, where a man in his forties was sitting with a bottle of water. He was tan, a little round, with graying black hair. Sloane noted he wasn’t covered in dirt, so she doubted he had gone digging around the grave. He looked up and nodded when they all flashed their badges. “We’re detectives Burkhardt, Griffin and Larson,” Nick said, gesturing to each of them. “Think you can answer some questions?”

“Yeah, I can try,” he sighed.

“What exactly happened, in your own words?”

He took a breath and nodded to the big rig parked up the road. “I was driving towards Bethany to pick up a new shipment early this morning. I like going through the woods when I can, I usually find it calming…It was dark, and as I was passing this area, my lights caught the sight of a big SUV on the side of the road. I thought it was odd so I pulled over and got out to see if someone needed help. No one was in the car though, and then I heard noises in the woods. So I followed the noise and I saw this guy…I mean, he had a shovel in his hand and one of those electric lanterns and he was filling in this big hole. I didn’t have a good feeling about it. So I yelled out to him and he looked up and then grabbed his light and took off running. I went over, thinking maybe it was something illegal like drugs or something…I really didn’t think it was…that.” He gestured towards the hole with a shudder. “Someone just took a guy’s head off and then tries to bury him out here? What is wrong with people?”

“We ask ourselves that a lot too,” Hank said.

“It’s what our job is kind of built on,” Sloane agreed, though she was sometimes the one digging the hole she reminded herself internally. “So I take it you didn’t get a good look at him? Or chase him?”

“Nah, my heart was already feeling like someone had grabbed it and run it like a wet rag, I didn’t want him taking my head too. I had to breathe for a few minutes before I managed to get to my truck for the radio, and that car that must’ve been his was gone. He must’ve circled around through the woods. As for getting a good look at him, it was still dark. Best I could tell was he was…I think white, wearing a black shirt and dark jeans. I got a better look at his car.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. “I wrote down the license plate in case I needed to call it in. It was a dark blue Ford Escape, not sure what year.”

“Good thinking, sir,” Hank said, taking the paper and Nick made the note about the color and model. “This will help track him down hopefully.”

“My father was a state trooper,” Mr. Uccello said with a smile. “He always made sure I knew what info would help. Though if he knew I’d gotten out of the car and followed a weird noise into the woods he’d have dragged me back by the ears for almost ending up in a hole with that pour soul.” He crossed himself and glanced up. “Sorry, papa.”

They asked a few more questions before going back to where the ME was clearing the body to be moved. “So, we got a guy burying a headless body in the woods,” Nick said. “But when he’s discovered, he chooses to run instead of fight? I mean, cutting off someone’s head is pretty high on the list of power moves, yet he doesn’t confront a single witness?”

“Murder of passion maybe?” Hank suggests. “Killed the guy in a struggle, then panics and tries to hide the body but doesn’t have the same adrenaline moment to kill a guy who walks in on him burying the evidence?”

“Possible. We might be dealing with a more physically weak person too who didn’t think he’d win in a 1 on 1 fight,” Sloane said.

“What makes you think that?”

Sloane knelt by the hole and pointed to the body. “There’s no other wound, but that head came off pretty cleanly, no hesitation marks or jagged edges. Not like it would with a hand-held weapon. This required a lot of force, probably using some kind of trap or sedating the guy before…” She made a slicing motion over her throat. “Plus, decapitation isn’t most people’s immediate go to nowadays for killing someone.”

“I’m not so sure. After all, I know a couple of “Decapatare”,” He said quietly, looking at the two Grimm next to him. Nick and Sloane looked at one another and tried not to smile. It was a crime scene after all.

“We don’t do that _too_ often anymore either,” Sloane said.

 “Could it be reaper related though? They’ve been quiet around here for a while,” Nick asked back.

“Possible, but they do usually leave a calling card of some kind…I think your little show of dominance you told me about probably put them off for a while, but it’s possible they might want to strike back again.”

“Great,” Nick sighed.

“If it is a Reaper, he’s got two Grimms to deal with this time,” she said, patting his shoulder. He smiled a little.

“What about the Royals? Or the Verat? They’ve been stirring up trouble the last year,” Hank pointed out.

“That I doubt. They’re usually more careful. If they make bodies, they’re only found if they want them found,” Sloane said.

“I guess it’s too much to ask this case might not even be wesen related?” Nick said.

“Eh, hard to say at this point I suppose,” Sloane said. She looked back towards the would-be grave. “I guess once we figure out who our victim is, that should help get things rolling.”

“Got you a head start here then,” Wu said, coming up to them with an evidence bag. They gave him a rather dour look and he paused before holding up his hand. “That pun was completely unintentional, I swear. What I was trying to say was we have a wallet that was still in the vic’s jacket pocket. Says his name is Patton Marlow and he lives here in Portland.”

“Well, that should make this a bit easier then,” Hank said.

Nick nodded, taking the wallet to look it over through the bag. “Looks like all his cards are there and…almost a hundred dollars in cash.”

“So not a robbery,” Sloane surmised.

“Likely not. We better track down the last people to see Mr. Marlow alive.”

“I’ll have the body sent to the ME as soon as we can get him out of the ground then,” Wu said. They were already pulling him up out of the grave, his head being carefully being put in a separate, smaller body bag. Sloane straightened when his body was carefully lifted out.

“Hold on,” Sloane said, leaning down more. Reaching a gloved hand down into the shallow grave, she brushed some dirt away from his feet. “There’s some bruising around his ankle…I think he might’ve been tied up.”

“I don’t see anything on his wrists,” Hank said. “Did they just tie up his legs?”

“Just one…” Sloane said, looking at the other. “That’s about all I can tell though. Let’s hope the ME can see more. But I don’t think this was a quick death, this bruising is old...”

“That’s not the only thing,” the ME said. “I hadn’t turned the body over yet, but it might not have been the head-lopping that got him. I’ve got several holes in his back, from what appears to be a fire arm.”

“He was shot too?” Sloane leaned down from where the medical team was holding the body to see the dark red, soaked back of his shirt. There were four of them and given the amount of blood it was likely what killed him. “So why take his head off?”

“Definite overkill,” Wu said. He frowned when they looked at him again. “I swear I’m not doing that on purpose. Mostly.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. Someone really wanted this man dead,” Hank said.

 “Agreed,” Nick said. “Someone targeted Mr. Marlow somewhere they could take their time. We need to find out why and where.”

The nodded and thanked Wu and the others before heading back to their cars and back to the station. It was a couple hours of scouring the data bases later that they had a bit more information on their victim.

“Patton Marlow,” Hank read from what they’d all gathered. “44 years old, moved to Portland 8 years ago, worked as a local furniture maker. Had a bit of a wild youth growing up in Michigan it seems, a few priors in his record for violence and gang activity going back to his teenage years.”

“But then he got into making furniture?” Nick asked skeptically.

Hank shrugged. “Apparently while in jail for three years on a battery charge, he started learning how to make furniture in their local work shop program and landed an apprenticeship. Seemed to have a good effect on him, he went the straight and narrow when he got out. He’s been an example of “Work for Change” for years of how their program does well.”

 “So could it be this has to do with his old life?” Sloane wondered. “Someone he did wrong in his youth coming back for revenge?”

“Definitely possible,” Nick said. He picked up the wallet and flipped through it again before pausing and pulling out a card. “…We need to go visit Monroe.”

Sloane frowned automatically. “Why?”

“Because I’ve seen this card before,” he held it up. It was a picture of silhouetted human cameo, but hollowed inside it in the white of the card was a wolf. In simple letters was the title _New Nature_ and just the contact information. Nick was already heading for the door after flashing the card and Hank gave a sigh.

“Guessin’ this is wesen after all,” he said.

Sloane nodded and they quickly followed.

Nick had called ahead to the Monroe while heading down to the car and found out he was home working on some watches rather than at the shop with Rosalee. Sloane would rather Rosalee was there, but at the very least Hank and Nick would be there. Monroe opened the door as they were walking up the steps.

“Hey, what’s up? You said something about a case?”

“Yeah…I’ve seen this in your wallet before and when you gave one to Holly’s mother a couple of years ago.” He held out the card and Monroe took it to look over with a worried frown.

“This is a card for my church…”

“Your church?” Hank asked.

“The Wieder church. We say church, but nowadays it’s more like a group meeting for wesen that y’know, don’t want to be violent and wild. We get together to swap techniques, recipes, do some group activities, and support each other when temptation happens. Used to be just Blutbader but we opened it up to other wesen too.”

“Sounds fun…” Sloane said dryly.

“It is, thanks,” he said back. “But where did you get this?”

Nick looked at Hank and Sloane and then back to Monroe. “Do you know a Patton Marlow?”

“Pat? Yeah, he’s been coming to our church for like eight years now, since he moved…Oh no…” Monroe looked at them and then sighed and sat down. “What happened?”

“He was found this morning…he was decapitated,” Nick said honestly.

Monroe’s eyes immediately went to Sloane and she glared back. “Don’t look at me like that! We have a witness saying it was a guy digging a grave for him out in the woods. I didn’t even know he was a Blutbad till now.”

Monroe blinked and then looked at Nick. “He wasn’t a Blutbad.”

“He wasn’t?”

“No. He was a Zischende-Federn.”

Sloane reeled a little in disbelief. “Wait, seriously?”

“What’s that?” Hank asked.

She looked for a second like she wanted to laugh but shrugged. “A goose wesen,” Sloane said.

Nick and Hank looked at her and then at Monroe. “Goose…?” Hank started, lips twitching.

“Hey, don’t laugh,” Monroe said seriously. “Zischende-Federn are prone to anger issues. Kind of like real geese…and they can be dangerous. When they woge, their beaks are super strong and can crack someone’s skull if they try.”

“Is that why he had a battery charge for striking someone in the head hard enough to cause a concussion?” Nick asked more seriously.

“Ah, you know about that,” Monroe said, grimacing a little.

“We did do a back ground check.”

“Right, of course…Yes, Pat did do some time in prison. But that was behind him! After he finished his apprenticeship to be a carpenter and he finished the ninth step in Michigan he moved out here.”

“Ninth step?” Sloane asked.

Monroe took a breath and rubbed his hands over his jeans as he thought how to explain. “Like in AA and other anonymous groups, we do counseling and a kind of twelve step program at the weider-church. After growing up with all these traditions and values, you can’t just quit cold-turkey. It’s pretty similar to other twelve step programs, though not really religious or obviously tied to alcohol or drugs. Though giving into the wild side of our wesen selves can be addicting…”

“So the ninth step is making amends to people, right?” Hank asked. They all turned to look at him and he shrugged. “My uncle had some problems in the past, I remember my dad and mom helping him through a program. He had to go back to square one a couple of times before making it that far.”

Monroe nodded. “A lot do, even me. Here, just a sec.” He turned and opened a drawer, shuffling around in it before pulling out a journal. He pulled out a pamphlet that was placed inside and opened it up. “This is from back when I first started.” He handed it up to Nick who opened it while Sloane and Hank leaned in to look. There were pictures of people doing things like walking in the woods and doing community work, a few paragraphs about what New Nature as about, and then the twelve steps listed out.

  1. _Acknowledge that I have given in to my baser instincts too many times and that it is a danger to myself and others._
  2. _Come to believe I A) deserve to live happily and B) that I have the power to do things differently—I can change maladaptive and destructive patterns of thought, behavior and action, and make wise choices._
  3. _Become willing to do things differently and make healthy choices in my thoughts, behaviors and actions through various methods, be it changing my living situation and lifestyle, suggestion from wise friends, my sponsor, my father’s wisdom, a therapist, group meetings, meditation and the development of my own inner strength and wisdom._
  4. _Look at the patterns of thought and behavior that don’t serve me and keep me angry, depressed, upset and lead me down the path to give in to my instincts. Where resentments are concerned, acknowledge my part, be it ever so small, so I can empower myself to change these patterns and have compassion for others. Recognize that interacting with unhealthy people is foolish and causes me harm._
  5. _Reflect on these patterns, discuss them with someone if necessary and fully acknowledge that these things harm me and cannot continue._
  6. _Become willing to surrender these negative patterns of thought, behavior and actions, including drinking, fighting, hunting or other addictive behavior, unhealthy romantic entanglements, unhealthy job settings and unhealthy people._
  7. _Take the necessary action to change these maladaptive patterns, to end unhealthy relationships and continue to take action that leads me to sobriety, sanity and wellness. Learn to let go of parts of myself or my heritage that may be holding me back. Figure out how to do this not in shame of what I am, but in the desire to be who I want to be._
  8. _Make a list of persons I have harmed and become willing to make amends to them._
  9. _Make direct amends to such people, whenever possible, except when to do so would injure them, myself or others._
  10. _Continue to watch for maladaptive behavior, without judgement, and take action to change it. Be kind and apologize when I’m in the wrong._
  11. _Involve myself in positive activities, such as dance, travel, learning, exercise, meditation, going to museums and readings, writing and cooking. Hang out with positive and spirit-lifting people to participate in life and keep moving forward, away from my rough past._
  12. _Develop an ethical compass. Treat others with respect and compassion, live with wisdom and generosity. Give back to the community when possible and to others in recovery while employing healthy boundaries. Live an example of a positive, openhearted, honest, ethical life._



While kept a little more ambiguous, it made sense for wesen in how it was phrased. “Like you said, the Eighth and Ninth step are tracking down people we’ve wronged in the past and apologizing to them, try and make amends,” Monroe said. “Even if they can’t or won’t forgive us, part of it is just being willing to admit the wrong stuff we did and admit we want to be forgiven. Pat did that—he tracked down the people he could in Michigan to say sorry and did what he could to make amends. Then he came here for a fresh start. Kept up with the steps here until he was done and living a good, lawful life.”

“Could it be he didn’t manage to get everyone to forgive him?”

Monroe sighed and nodded again. “That is always a possibility…I never asked for the specifics, it’s private unless they want to share.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“A couple of months ago I’m afraid. He doesn’t come to every meeting since he’s technically a graduate of the programs. And so am I, I only really go every once in a while if I want to catch up or if I had some…temptation.  He didn’t come to any meetings I was at though. I’m sorry, I don’t think I can help much more because we didn’t really hang out too much.” He sighed. “He liked staying at home working on his furniture more than socializing. Considering what he could get for it, I understand why.”

“How do you mean?” Nick asked.

Monroe quickly wheeled over and opened his laptop on his nearby desk, waking it up from sleep mode before typing in an address. “Pat’s furniture was handmade and sold for big bucks. See?” He showed him the pictures on a website of handmade furniture, all very nice and well made. One chair was carved with leaves winding up the rails at the back rest, like it was covered in ivy.

“$800 for one wooden chair?” Sloane gaped. “Could that be motive?”

“Hey, hand-made stuff like this isn’t cheap,” Monroe said. “But I guess you could try his place for clues and stuff…do you, uh…want some help?”

Sloane was set to say no, but Nick smiled and patted his shoulder. “Since you know him better than us at least, sure.”

\---------------

Patton Marlow’s place was a small two bedroom house, well-kept but simple. Nothing seemed out of place inside, what mess seemed like the kind of mess that came from living in a home. Shoes left near the door, jacket over a chair, some dishes that needed to be washed—nothing out of the ordinary.

“No signs of a break in or someone being beheaded…” Hank said, flipping through the mail on the kitchen table. “And he hasn’t been gone long. This mail is from yesterday.”

“ME said he was killed likely between 6pm and 10pm last night,” Nick said. “He’d have likely been home I think, right?”

“More than likely,” Monroe agreed. “He’s pretty introverted.”

“Got a computer and some business stuff back here,” Sloane said, walking out with some papers. “These recent statements don’t give much motive. He wasn’t rich, but he was making a living with his furniture.”

Nick took them to look over as well. “So we’re still looking at something from his past catching up.”

“We’re also still looking for an actual crime scene,” Hank pointed out. “No big blood stains here though.”

“I don’t smell anything off either,” Monroe said. He paused, moving a curtain slightly at the window near the back door. “Maybe he was out back? That’s where his workshop is it looks like.”

Sloane opened the back door, seeing the large outbuilding set up several yards away. She headed that way, the men catching up quickly. She slowed and then reached for her knife when she saw the door slightly ajar. Monroe paused a few feet from the door and tensed. “Now I smell blood…”

Sloane gripped the knife a little tighter, moving slowly inside. She wrinkled her nose when it caught the scent of blood before she even saw it. The floor and far wall was splattered with blood, some of the streaks going up to the rafters. A buzz saw was on the ground beside a huge pool of dark, almost black red, old and sticky around the teeth of the saw. There were drag marks leading out the door. “I think I found the crime scene…”

“I’ll call it in,” Hank said, pulling out his phone.

Monroe turned away quickly when he caught sight of the blood, feeling his eyes turn red for just a moment. “God…someone killed him in his own workshop?”

“Yeah…looks like the killer used his saw to take off his head…” She paused and frowned, pulling on a glove as she stepped around the blood trails and examined the wall. “And I got bullet holes too. Looks like he missed the first shot or two. They’re also high up, he wasn’t that tall…”

“That might have something to do with it,” Nick said, pointing up. She looked and attached to one of the rafters was a rope. It looked like it had been cut, but stepping back they mentally lined up the body.

“A snare…this guy snared Marlow’s ankle and had him hanging upside down and then shot him…” she said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

“Bastard,” she heard Monroe hiss.

She couldn’t disagree with him this time. Looking back at the wall, she blinked and moved in closer with a frown. “Hey, uh…we got word from the ME about the autopsy?”

“Not yet, she had another to finish first. Why?” Nick asked.

“I want to know what the bullets were made out of.”

“The bullets?” Monroe asked, still at the door. “Why would that matter?”

Sloane rolled her eyes and shined a light around the hole. It sparkled oddly, like glitter was around it. “Because, smart wolf, if they were like this they were pretty unusual.”

Nick frowned as well, moving closer to inspect the sparkling effect. “What is that?” He pulled out a small knife and worked it in, pulling the bullet out from the wall. “It’s on the bullet too.”

“I’m thinking this bullet was silver plated,” Sloane said. “And if it is, we might have a bigger problem than just someone trying to have it out with an old gang member…”

“How do you mean?” Nick asked.

She looked at Monroe, who was staring at the bullet holes now with a hint of anger and dread. “You know what I’m talking about, Blutbad?”

“…I think so.”

“Again, what?” Hank asked, having overheard as he called for backup.

She sighed, putting the flashlight down while nick bagged the slug. “We might be dealing with a Blinde Jäger.”

There was a pause and Hank was the first to ask the obvious: “What’s that?”

“‘Blind Hunter’,” Monroe translated. “Really annoying…”

“Just annoying?” Nick asked. “I mean, our victim might’ve been killed by one.”

“They’re annoying because they’re normal people who start hunting wesen,” Sloane clarified.

“You mean like Keirsheite?”

“Not necessarily.” She looked at Hank. “You told me about when you first started getting an idea wesen existed, you got freaked out. Paranoid. That you shot at your closet thinking something was there.”

Hank nodded slowly. “Yeah…Wasn’t a fun time.”

“I didn’t think so. But imagine if you realized there are “monsters” in the world. And you wanted to do something about it.”

“Not sure I appreciate the phrasing, but yeah,” Monroe agreed. “Blinde Jäger are humans who aren’t Grimm who start hunting wesen for whatever reason. Sometimes they know what wesen are, sometimes they maybe catch a glance of us woged and they’re mind isn’t sure what to think so they think we’re things like...well, werewolves,” he said, looking a little awkward.

“Werewolves?” Hank asked in surprise.

“Makes sense actually,” Nick said. “And because these bullets might be coated in silver, you’re figuring it’s one of these Blind Hunters?”

“It’s just a theory, but yes,” Sloane said. “If it was someone from his past, they’d either think he was human or know he was a Zischende-Federn, wouldn’t they? So a regular bullet would be fine. Why coat this one in silver?”

“But you said those were goose-like wesen,” Hank said. “Why would he think that was a werewolf?”

Sloane frowned. “I’m…not sure…”

“I might,” Monroe said. “It’s the same way you guys figured out he was wesen…”

“Your church?” Nick said.

“Yeah. I didn’t put two and two together till now, but a few days ago they had someone try to attack a member in the parking lot.”

“Did anyone report it?”

He shook his head with a sigh. “The weider church isn’t popular with every wesen out there. We figured it was some traditionalist feeling like a fight and saw us as easy targets. The meetings are supposed to be private too, and no one was seriously hurt in the end they said. So they didn’t say anything.”

“What happened exactly?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t there that night,” he said. “But I know a first-hand witness.” He paused and looked at Sloane. “If I take you to him, you gotta be on your best behavior,” he warned.

“Why do you single me out?”

“Because…he’s also a Blutbad.”

\----------------

The house Monroe led them to a two story traditional, with a natural garden around the front and what must’ve been a large backyard open to the woods behind. Monroe led them up to the front door and knocked on it, trying not to look worried. Sloane was tense next to Nick, but he was keeping an eye on her. A black man opened the door, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. He smiled when he saw them. “Monroe! Hey, nice to see you.” He shook his hands. “Been a while, haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I haven’t caught up. Things have been a little…crazy.” He stood aside a bit. “Guys, this is Caleb Farkas. Caleb, these are some friends of mine: Nick Burkhardt, Hank Griffin and…Sloane Larson.” Sloane arched her eyebrows but didn’t point out the pause.

“Nice to meet all of you. But what brings you all by?”

Monroe took a breath. “It’s…about Patton Marlow.”

Caleb’s smile fell and he looked at them all, not missing the despondent tone of Monroe’s voice. “What about Pat?”

He tried to say something but finally sighed. “Can we talk inside?”

He nodded slowly, letting them in. His house was clean like Monroe’s, though his tastes were a little more modern.  Lots of straight lines and solid colors compared to the homey wood and soft lines. “What’s all this about?”

“I heard you got attacked a few days ago,” Monroe said, sitting on the couch. “At one of the meetings.”

“Yeah…” He glanced at the others gathered.

“It’s okay, they all know. We need to know what happened. Please.”

“Why?” He asked slowly.

“We think he might still be out there. My friends are detectives, they want to help. We need to know what happened though. You want him off the street right?”

Caleb nodded slowly and sat down in the chair across from the couch. He leaned forward a bit, tapping his fingers together nervously. “It was four nights ago. I went to the meeting because I wanted to catch up with everyone and…well, I’d come close to eating meat again. I went for a run and some guys were having a barbeque and it just smelled so good…I could even smell the raw stuff they hadn’t cooked yet and it had my mouth watering. Stress at work wasn’t make it easy to resist.”

“I know, it gets hard sometimes…” Monroe agreed. Sloane shot him a look and he huffed and straightened his shoulders. “Um, so, you went to the meeting.”

“Yeah. I went down to the community center for the meeting and it was going fine. Marian was talking about nature versus nurture and nurturing ourselves to be who we want to be, I’d heard it before but we had some newer members and it’s good to hear sometimes. Then I got a phone call from my boyfriend who’s away for work so I went outside to chat. I saw this guy off to the side and he was just…off.”

“Off how,” Nick asked.

Caleb bit his lip and thought a moment. “It’s like…when you get the feeling someone is staring at you, and not in a good way. The guy was wearing a dark hoodie under a jacket, with the hood up, and it wasn’t that cold anymore, and he was just facing me the whole time. I didn’t want to freak out though, I thought maybe he was interested in the meeting, but didn’t know how to approach or was worried. So after I hanged up I went over to talk to him. I asked him what was up, if he wanted to come inside…and he asked “What are you?””

“Wow, rude,” Monroe said.

“Yeah. This wasn’t a kid either, he was at least in his twenties, maybe thirties…it was dark. I asked what he was talking about and got a little closer and suddenly he pulls out a bat. And then I get a little worried. He said something like “Show me what you are, monster”, which also rude and a touch dramatic…But I woged thinking I’m going to need to fight and could scare this dumb kid off. He yells and tarts swinging at me, I manage to fend him off while trying to tell him to stop. I get angry enough I grab his bat and break it over my knee and I’m about to put my teeth in him when I manage to stop. Then he pulls out a gun. I’m really scared for a second. Then I hear more yelling and people from inside are coming out, heading right for us. He panicked and ran off. Gave me a few bruises but he was definitely trying to smash my head in, and I’m fairly sure he would’ve shot me…”

“You should’ve reported this,” Hank said.

“To the police?” He shrugged. “Probably, but our meetings aren’t “official” meetings so we weren’t sure how to explain it without us all maybe facing some problems if we had to say it was something it wasn’t. If my job thought I had an alcohol or drug problem, they’d probably fire me. It was hard enough to get where I am.” He looked at them and frowned. “You say he’s still out there, and I believe you, but why did you want to know about Pat?”

There was a pause before Nick spoke up. “We’re actually homicide detectives…and we’re uniquely equipped to handle these kinds of cases.”

Caleb stared before woging suddenly. His hair and eyebrows grew wilder, his ears pointed, teeth sharp, nose more angular and feral. Sloane grasped the arm of the couch tightly and Nick quickly put a hand on her knee as if to anchor her down. Hank didn’t react to him, but saw the two Grimms tense. It was a quick change, reverting back to his human appearance only seconds later and moving back in his chair. “Oh my God, you’re the Grimm!”

“Now Caleb-” Monroe started.

“I’d heard there was a Grimm detective in town and some wesen were working with him, but you Monroe?! And there’s two of them?!”

“Calm down,” Monroe said quickly. “Yes, I help them, but it’s because they’re good. They’re not like the Grimms we were told about as kids.” He glanced briefly at Sloane but continued on. “They’ve done a lot of good. They’ve brought in bad wesen and they’ve solved cases for and helped good wesen. I wouldn’t bring them here if I didn’t trust them.”

Caleb slowly sat back with his feet on the floor. “…I’m not sure I understand…Why is one crazy guy trying to use me for target practice a matter for the…Grimm police?”

Nick let go of Sloane’s knee, shooting her a warning glance. “…Was Patton Marlow at that meeting that night?”

“Pat? Uh…yeah. Surprised us, but he wanted to check in, maybe sponsor someone again. Actually, he was the first one out of the center actually. Ran up like he was ready to take him on single handed, shouting at him to leave me alone or he’d throw him down the hill,” Caleb nodded. “Why?”

Monroe took a breath again and rubbed his hands together. “Pat was found dead this morning…”

Caleb’s jaw dropped and the rest of the tension left him in shock. “Dead…?” Monroe nodded sadly. “H…how?”

“We’re still gathering details,” Nick said delicately.

“But we think it might have something to do with the man that attacked you,” Hank said. “You said he had a gun?”

“Y-yeah. He didn’t get a chance to fire it though…”

“Any idea what type?”

“Um, I don’t know guns that well, but…it was like the kind you see in westerns, with the…” He made a half-hearted motion with his hands, one as if holding a gun and the other flicking the side of where the imaginary firearm would be.

“A six shooter? The kind with a spinning barrel?” Nick supplied.

“Yeah, I guess,” he said helplessly.

Nick wrote that down while Hank kept up the questions. “Do you remember anything that might help us identify him?”

“Um…” He breathed, closing his eyes as he tried to remember. “I…It was dark…but I did get him under the parking lot light at one part. He was about my height but broader. He was white and he had a scar, I remember. I tore the sleeve of his jacket off when we were fighting and he had a big scar on his forearm…four of them actually.” He looked down at his hand. “Like claw marks…but they were old, healed up, I didn’t actually scratch him!” He looked at Sloane and Nick as if worried they’d judge him guilty.

“It’s okay, we believe you,” Nick said. Sloane kept her mouth shut. “I’d accept self-defense if you did. Anything else?”

“Not really…oh…his scent actually,” he said.

“His scent?”

“Yeah. When I woged, I still couldn’t smell him…”

“Wolfs bane,” Sloane finally said, though it was more to herself.

“Yeah. But if he rubbed it on him, it must’ve been fresh,” Monroe said slowly.

“Does that mean he does know wesen?” Hank asked.

“Not necessarily,” he sighed. “Wolf’s bane is also said to be a weakness for werewolves.”

“Werewolves?” Caleb asked, wrinkling his nose. “Wait…you think we’re dealing with someone that believes in werewolves?”

Monroe sighed and nodded. “A Blinde Jager, yeah.”

“Oh…great,” Caleb sighed. He then balled up his fist in frustration. “But why Pat? He wasn’t a Blutbad!”

“If I had to guess, it’s because he was also there that night,” Nick said. “This guy fired bullets coated with silver, so he was using werewolf logic. But he didn’t see Pat if he woged out of stress, only you when you woged to scare him. So he might’ve assumed that he and anyone else there at that meeting was a “wolf”.”

“That card does seem kind of wolfy,” Sloane supplied dryly.

“Yeah, we do need to change it…” Caleb agreed, slightly out of it.

“How did he even know about the meeting though?” Hank said.

Caleb suddenly straightened and then quickly pulled out his phone. “One of the organizers that night, Carol Larkin, didn’t come...we thought it was odd because she’s one of the ministers at the church nearby and definitely should’ve been there that day, but no one had heard from her since the day before.”

“Oh no…” Monroe breathed. “Not Carol…”

Caleb called a number and held it to his ear. He frowned and brought it down a minute later and shook his head. “She’s not picking up…”

The detectives all rose. “Do you have her address?” Nick asked quickly.

“I do,” Monroe said. “We trade recipes and I’ve had to return pans to her before…”

“Can I help?” Caleb said.

 Nick looked at Caleb with the air of a Grimm, but also the authority of a police officer. “Stay here, lock your doors and call everyone from the meeting to tell them what’s going on. No, wait,” he amended. “Stress to them not to go out looking for trouble, alright? We’ll handle this, I don’t want a bunch of scared or angry people walking into trouble, no matter how fearsome they are as wesen. A bullet could still kill most wesen I’ve met. Tell them someone might be looking for them and to stay on guard and at home as much as they can.”

Caleb nodded quickly. “Okay, yeah, I can do that…”

They started for the door but Sloane paused and looked back at Caleb, assessing him. He paused and looked up. “W-what?”

“…Have you ever killed someone?” she asked, her voice even but icy.

Caleb tensed and swallowed, before taking a deep breath. “A-almost…I was a teen, I-I didn’t have control-”

“I don’t care. I don’t like Blutbader.”

“Sloane,” Monroe warned.

“So I’m not exactly thrilled to be defending you,” she went on, ignoring him. “But a Blinder Jager is a danger to everyone. They could take any odd behavior as a sign of a “monster”. When this is over, you better hope I never catch so much as your pinky toe out of line.”

Caleb’s hand tightened on the phone before he straightened up. “Believe me, lady, I live every day scared about stepping out of line and being judged. And it’s not just because I’m a Blutbad. I’ve lived everyday guilty for hurting someone how I did. But you know what else? I did my ninth step. I found him and I apologized and I made amends and he forgave me. So now I do everything I can to make sure I never hurt another innocent person, and I take that promise seriously enough I might’ve let that kid hit me with that club or shoot me rather than kill him. And I’d have left behind the man I love and a lot of other people in that instance, just to avoid blood on my hands again. Can you say the same?”

Sloane’s jaw ticked a moment before she turned and stalked out. Nick and Hank followed her, and Monroe nodded to Caleb in part apology and part admiration before following them.

“Where does he get off,” Sloane muttered, heading for the car.

“Where the hell do you get off?!” Monroe fired back. “He gave you no reason to say that to him!”

She turned and snarled at him. “He’s a Blutbad! That’s enough reason for me!”

“Okay, both of you stop!” Nick said, getting between them before they could come to blows. “Sloane, cool down. We’re not hunting a Blutbad, so focus on the task at hand and please stop derailing and being antagonistic. And Monroe, you are right, but ease up a second, okay? In fighting isn’t going to help either.”

Sloane snorted but turned away, hands on her hips and her foot twitching irritably.  Monroe huffed but calmed down slightly. “She’s the one being rude…”

“I don’t disagree,” Nick said, shooting Sloane a look when she glared at him. “Your bias isn’t helping anyone here.”

“Bias, huh? I call it caution but sure.”

“Whatever you call it, we know a Blutbad probably didn’t do this, right?”

Sloane crossed her arms but finally nodded. “Yeah…”

“Then let’s focus on that.”

“Fine.”

“Then we need to get to Carol,” Monroe said, heading for the car.

“Is she also a Blutbad?” Sloane asked.

“No, she’s a Zirpende Stimme. A song bird.”

“…What the hell is a Zirpende Stimme doing at your meetings?!” Sloane said, snapping her belt on. She was riding up front with Nick, Hank in the back with Monroe. “They couldn’t hurt people if they wanted to.”

“She’s a local minister and does work outside the church with us. She helps officiate the meetings and mediate and talk people through the exercises. She was one of the first people I met here in Portland and one of the nicest, least judgement people out there,” Monroe explained patiently. “Something you don’t really worry about it seems.”

“Maybe because I don’t want to,” she shot back.

“Guys, focus?” Nick sighed. Monroe gave directions to where Carol Larkin lived, a simple neighborhood of nice, well-kept cottages. The little violet cottage stood out even there as they pulled up to it.

“It’s been more than five days,” Nick warned as they headed up, looking at Monroe. If no one’s heard from her in that time, she’s might be…”

Monroe nodded, taking a deep breath. He knocked on the door. “Carol? Hey, it’s Monroe.”

Nick paused and turned his head slightly, opening his senses. He could hear the sound of footsteps inside. “Someone is home…”

“Carol?” Monroe called louder, pounding on the door.

A loud crash got them all tense and Monroe immediately reared back and slammed against the door with his strength. It caved in easily enough and they quickly stepped through, Nick and Hank pulling their guns and Sloane her knife. It was quiet a moment, Monroe sniffing the air and then pointing down a hall. “Down this way…”

They headed that way, but Sloane paused, sniffing. There was a pungent, almost sweet-sour smell hanging in the air, like bad eggs mixed with a ton of gardenias. “Sulphur?” she muttered, looking around. There was a bit of white dust on the kitchen table, but that was all she saw that was strange. There was also a pizza box on the kitchen table. Lifting the receipt on the lid, she saw it had been delivered earlier that day. She put it back down and followed the others, deciding to come back to the smell later, but glancing around with piqued paranoia. Monroe led them to a door at the end of the hall that was closed and nodded at it. Nick slowly turned the knob and pushed it open, ready to fight if need be.

Inside, a woman in pajamas and short, red hair was tied to a chair with her hands behind her back, her face bruised and bloody. The crash they’d heard had apparently been a lamp she’d managed to knock over from the bedside table. She saw Monroe and tried to speak through the gag in her mouth, flooded with relief.

“Carol!” Monroe said, quickly moving forward and pulling the gag out. “You’re alive!”

“Barely,” she rasped, sobbing a little. “God above, you don’t know how happy I am to see you, Monroe…”

“What happened?” Nick asked, moving to help untie her. He noted her hands were a little purple, having been very roughly and tightly tied for a long time. She groaned as rubbed her wrists, shaking stiff fingers.

“It was a few days ago…I think. It’s all kind of blurred together now. This man came to my door one evening asking if he could talk to me about New Nature. I thought he was someone interested in joining so I invited him in. He starts asking mostly about “wolves” though…I thought he might be a Blutbad, but when I asked, he didn’t even know what a Blutbad was. Then he got angry…He told me he knew I was one, but I swore I wasn’t. He took out a gun and I…I got so scared I woged!” She did so now, pale blue feathers growing out of her head, bright yellow feathers down her neck, and short beak popping from her face. A nervous but still pretty trill escaped from her throat, but then she squawked when she saw Nick. “Ah! You’re-”

“It’s Okay,” Nick said quickly. “We’re interested in the guy that hurt you, not hurting you.”

She woged back, breathing deeply and seeming a bit shaky now. “I-I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Monroe said. “These guys are detectives, and my friends. They’re trying to find the guy who did this to you. What happened after you woged?”

She sniffed and swallowed. “H-he freaked out and hit me. I blacked out a-and then I woke up tied to this chair. H-he would bring me water and a little food and let me go to the bathroom, but then…then he’d start asking questions about the meetings, and hitting me when I wouldn’t or couldn’t answer! And he kept asking about “wolves”!”

“…He’s been staying here, hasn’t he?” Sloane asked from the doorway.

“Y-yes, in my guest room…how did you…?”

“Because…he’s still here,” she said, looking at the doorway. Just then a blur of black raced past the door. Sloane was on the chase before the others, rushing after him.

“Sloane!” Nick yelled, quickly following.

“Next time maybe lead with that!” Hank said, following Nick, while Carol clung to Monroe.

“Sloane, wait!”

She didn’t listen as Nick yelled after her, chasing after the man in a black hoodie and jeans as he raced through the house. He tried to juke her, moving towards the front a moment before jumping over a divider set up near the front door to race back for the back door. She switched back quickly, still hot on his tail. He made it through the back door into the yard, jumping over the railing of the deck. She watched him vault over a fence and sheathed her knife again before she followed him easily. Nick and Hank were left on the back deck, unable to see where they were going after Sloane disappeared over the fence.

“Dammit!” Nick swore.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be okay. It’s him we should probably worry about…” Hank reminded him. “We should get some medical over here for Miss Larkin.”

“Yeah…” Nick said. He had a bad feeling he couldn’t shake but followed Hank back inside.

Sloane meanwhile was running after the man like a lioness after a gazelle. He kept trying to lose her through backyards before coming out into a park and running for the nearby trees. Sloane caught up in the wide open space with a burst of speed and tackled him to the ground.

“Portland PD, stay down!” she barked, wrestling his arms around and pinning them to his back. He was shorter than her, but was compact muscle and strong. He tried to struggle but she kept her knee on the small of his back as she moved to handcuff him. She pushed down harder and on an inhale caught that harsh scent of Sulphur again, but also the slight tang of gunpowder. Pulling his jacket up, she saw his gun was in the waist band of his shirt and quickly pulled it out and tossed it by his feet so he couldn’t grab it. “You’re being arrested on the suspicion of murder, kidnapping, and probably a bunch of other stuff. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law-”

“You don’t understand!” he shouted. “I know it sounds crazy, but they aren’t human!”

Sloane paused but then hauled him up. “I understand better than you might think.”

“No, you don’t, they change, they—”

“Look like animals? Sharp teeth, more hair…red eyes? Like blood red?”

The man froze and then turned to look at her. He had blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a hawkish nose.  “Y-yeah…you’ve seen them?”

“Yeah…I’ve seen them,” she said.

He straightened and looked at her. His hands were still bound but he was slacker now, looking at her in shock. He was actually a little older than her, maybe in his mid-thirties, with sandy-blonde hair and pale skin and pale brown eyes like coffee with a lot of cream in it. His eyes were a bit wild at the moment, wild with surprise and hope. “They’re dangerous. They’re killers!”

“I don’t disagree…but so are you.” _And so am I, but at least I can see what I’m killing._

“No! I’m keeping them from killing more! Like my father!”

Sloane frowned. “Your father?”

He shook a little bit, breathing deeply. “My father…he was killed by one of those things. It tried to kill me, and my father saved me but it killed him…”

Sloane felt her heart lurch a little. “…I understand that too…”

He stared before nodding. “You lost someone to those monsters too? Then you know why I do it!” He pushed.

Sloane took a breath and then looked at him. He had no idea why she did what she did, and no idea how far this spread. He thought he was protecting people… “…You and I need to have a talk.”

\-----------------------

“Sloane isn’t back yet,” Nick said, looking out the door worriedly.

“Maybe she’s still chasing him. She is the determined type…” Hank pointed out.

“I hope he resisted arrest and she beat him up,” Monroe said, handing Carol another glass of water.

“Well, the ambulance is on the way. It’s best you go get checked out, Miss Larkin,” Hank said.

“Thank you…That man, what has he done?” she asked. “I know he did something, he came back covered in blood one evening…he said he got one of my “monster friends”. Called me a harpy, which I took a bit of offense too, we look nothing alike…”

Monroe frowned and patted her shoulder. “I think it might be better I tell you after you get checked out at the hospital…I’ll go with you, okay?”

Carol frowned and set the glass down. “Monroe, I know he killed someone and it must be someone I know…what happened?”

He frowned more and sighed. “It’s Pat…he thought Pat was a Blutbad—a werewolf—and…shot him and took his head.”

Carol closed her eyes as if in pain and took a deep breath before shaking her head. “Dammit…” She wiped at her eyes. “Pat…poor Pat, he didn’t deserve that…But…that boy’s not a Grimm, why?”

“You know he’s not?” Nick asked.

“I woged several times while he was in the same room with me and he never noticed. If I did it so anyone could see, he’d notice then and he’d get angry, but it was more like he didn’t want to get close to me,” she said. “And his eyes never changed…not like yours.”

Nick tried not to feel uncomfortable how scared she was of him when he wasn’t the one who had tied her up and beaten her.

“We think he’s a Blinder Jager,” Monroe said.

“Oh…Oh dear…that can be worse than a Grimm…There was one I heard of when I was young, he killed several humans thinking they were wesen because he couldn’t tell the difference…a mass murder. He was shot by police.”

Nick frowned more, worry growing. They heard the ambulance pull up outside and Nick and Hank went out to meet them and bring them inside for Carol. When Carol and Monroe were heading the hospital, Nick looked at Hank. “Do you think you really would’ve become like this guy?”

Hank took a breath. “I was freaking out when I started seeing these things, Nick. Jumping at shadows, wondering if I was crazy or if it was the world. I saw Carly, my own goddaughter, change and almost shot her in the heat of the moment. If it weren’t for you, maybe I would have…That thought gets me sometimes.”

Nick frowned but nodded a bit. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner…”

Hank shrugged. “I get it, man. It’s not an easy thing to explain, even when you see things.”

Nick nodded and then looked around the street. “I’m getting worried about Sloane…Should we go looking for them?”

“Might be good, yeah. But we better wait for Crime scene to get here. Sloane can take care of herself.”

\-----------------------

Sloane knew on some level this was a bad idea. At least in her current life as a police detective, this was a horrible idea. She had taken a wanted murderer to the local coffee shop, bought him food and sat outside where they couldn’t be overheard. They hadn’t talked much on the way over, but the man had stayed because she promised him information.

“What’s your name?” Sloane asked, handing him the fountain-drink soda and sandwich.

He eyed the food a little suspiciously but took them. “Andrew. Andrew Petrevski.”

Sloane nodded. “I’m Sloane Larson.”

He nodded and took a sip of the Soda. He was calmer now, eyeing her up and down. “You said you’d tell me what you know.”

Sloane sighed and got comfortable on the grass. “What I know is…you know nothing.”

“Excuse me?” He said, getting angry.

“It’s true. I’m not saying you didn’t lose someone to a monster, but you don’t know what it really was. It’s not a werewolf. Was it a full moon when you were attacked?”

He was quiet before shaking his head. “No…but I know what I saw!”

“And I believe you, because I’ve seen them dozens of time. I’ve hunted them. Along with tens of hundreds of other kinds of “monsters”. They’re called wesen though, and they’re all around you, many of them different.”

“You’re trying to scare me…” he accused.

“I’m really not,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Tell me about what happened to you.” Andrew huffed a bit and she looked at him steadily. “I’m going to believe you. You don’t have to worry about me dismissing you.”

He stared back before looking down at his soda cup, chasing a drop of condensation with his thumb. “…I went out on a hunting trip back in Montana. I was sixteen at the time, and it was the off season, but I knew there were some deer in the area. So I set a traps. I got really good at making traps. I didn’t want to get caught, so I figured traps were quieter. I went to check them one afternoon, found a pretty good sized buck in one of them. Like, I was amazed I’d caught something that big! But super proud. Took me a bit to pull him up, but I got him and dressed him and started back for home.” He took another sip, rolled it in his mouth as if tasting his words with it.

“This guy suddenly popped up near dusk. Big guy, wearing flannel and jeans and big heavy boots and messy hair. He told me I shouldn’t be there, tried to take the deer I caught. I was a dumbass teenager and fought him on it, then I punched him in the jaw. And his face just…changed. Like you said, red eyes, hair, fangs…it was like his bones rearranged in some places. He swiped at me…” He pulled up his sleeve and showed four claw-like scars on his arm, just like Jacob described. “I freaked out and ran back home. We lived just on the edge of the woods and I got inside. My dad had told me not to do anything so I thought he’d be mad, but he was freaking out about me being bloody and started wrapping my arm to go to the hospital.  I tried to tell him and he didn’t believe me at first, but then there was this loud knock at the door. He went to it and it was him…the-the monster from the woods. My dad said whatever it was could wait, he had to take me to the hospital. That…thing said no one was going anywhere and transformed again. My dad was a boxer, he managed to stun it for a second and yelled for me to get to the basement and lock the door. I was frozen for a couple of seconds—I was scared. But then he shouted at me again and I ran like a damn coward and hid in the basement.” He gripped the cup a little tighter and Sloane was glad she got him a soda instead of coffee. “I could hear them fighting, and then this pounding on the basement door. He was going to break it down, I was sure I was going to die…and then there was this scream from that thing. And a sound like chopping wood. I waited a sec and then climbed out and I saw my dad had cut that things head off with an axe. But his neck was…was bitten out.” He choked a bit, swallowing bile. “He was close to passing out, just looking at me with glassy eyes and all that blood…I called 911 but they couldn’t get there in time…I passed out from blood loss and when I woke up in the hospital, my dad had died.” He was close to crushing his drink and sandwich in his hands and Sloane took them and set them aside. “Everyone thought I was crazy when I told them it was a werewolf. They put me in a mental institution. Some even thought I killed my father and a stranger. I went through therapy, I was given medication…I thought maybe I was crazy, but these damn scars were always there, telling me I know what I saw…”

“So what made you start hunting them?” she asked quietly.

“I got out…I was…normal for a while. 9-5 job at a chemical warehouse, made it to supervisor…I learned a lot from that job. I was good at it. I knew what chemicals needed to go where, how to store them, what doesn’t mix unless you want to lose part of the building or your life. I still made traps sometimes…Bad nights I’d set one up outside my house, my windows, to feel like I was safe. But I was doing good, really,” he said. “Then a year ago, one of my workers tried to shake me down for money. I told him no, fired him. He turned into another…thing—it was like what attacked me, but different…”

Sloane nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me…there are a lot of different types of wesen. A lot of them with fangs and claws.”

He breathed deep. “Wesen…” he said, testing the word.

“What did you do? About this worker?”

He laughed a little. “I…it brought everything back and I freaked out. I fought back, which he didn’t expect. I had this…silver pen, a gift when I was promoted. I put all my power behind it and stabbed him in the neck. It killed him…and I ran. I’ve been running since. I wasn’t crazy, they were real. I’d been taking my meds, I’d been to therapy, everything was fine, but he turned and I knew in that moment _I wasn’t crazy_. These things were out there,” He finished desperately.

Sloane nodded. “Yeah. They are. Wesen are everywhere.

“Then how do we fight them?” he asked almost urgently.

“ _You_ don’t,” she said firmly.

He blinked in confusion. “What?”

She looked at him steadily. “You’re a normal human. You don’t fight them, people like me do. Because I can see them when you can’t. I’m what’s called a Grimm, and Grimm are the natural hunters of wesen. What you’ve done is make a big mess to be honest.”

“Stop trying to bullshit me!” he shouted, throwing his drink off to the side. It was a treat for the ants now. “You’re special? What makes you special?! What’s a Grimm and why should I care?!”

Sloane didn’t flinch at his anger, staying calm. “…Let me tell you about my grandmother.”

\-----------------------

Nick and Hank were still hanging around Carol’s house as the crime techs were going over it for any more clues, when Sloane returned.

“Where were you?” Nick asked. “You’ve been gone for three hours! Are you okay?”

Sloane sighed. “I’m okay…but I lost him.”

“You lost him?” Hank asked, more surprised than accusing.

She nodded. “I kept up with him till we were out of the neighborhood, into a park. I almost had him but the asshole got around me somehow and I kept trying to hunt him down…But I had to give up.”

Nick frowned a bit, knowing she wasn’t the type to give up. But she looked agitated and figured she hated admitting it. He set a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. We’ll track him down.”

Sloane nodded, but still looked annoyed. “I didn’t get away empty handed.” She pulled out the gun from her pocket, wrapped in her rubber gloves with a smile. “I got this away from him in a struggle.”

“That’s a big something,” Nick said, smiling back and taking the gun. He grabbed an evidence bag from a kit and put it inside. “Six-shooter, like Caleb Farkas said.”

“Wonder if those bullets are coated in silver…” Hank said.

“I think it’s likely,” Sloane said. “How’s it here?”

“Monroe rode with Miss Larkin to the hospital. Crime scene is going over the place and we’ve got plenty of DNA sources since he left so fast. Including some bloody clothes in bag he was probably going to toss into the hole,” Hank said.

Sloane nodded. “That’s good…”

“Let’s head back to the precinct. We should probably let the Captain know what we’re dealing with.”

Sloane nodded, still oddly quiet, but they headed for their cars and headed back to the precinct. They went to Renard’s office immediately after getting in and he nodded to them. “What is it?”

“A case we’re on,” Nick said. “Some of Monroe’s weider group have been attacked, one man is dead. Patton Marlow, a...”

“Zischende-Federn,” Sloane supplied.

Renard’s eyebrows ticked up. “I see. Someone not liking the weider church isn’t unusual, they usually see them as easy, ‘peace loving’ targets.”

“It’s not just that,” Hank said. “This isn’t wesen on wesen crime. It’s a…” He glanced at Sloane.

“Blinder Jager,” she supplied again.

“That.”

Renard’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yes. He held a woman, Carol Larkin, captive for several days and tried to attack another member of the church. Both were wesen, and from what he said and the weapons used, he thought he was hunting “monsters”,” Sloane said.

“Werewolves to be more precise. Larkin did some shifting around him he didn’t seem to notice, so he’s not a Grimm,” Nick added. “She thought he might be at first, but he couldn’t see her woge. He had her tied to the chair and beat her for information on the “wolves” she knew.”

“So he has a particular vendetta against Blutbader,” Renard surmised.

“Hard to imagine why,” Sloane muttered. Nick cast a disapproving look and she didn’t meet his gaze.

“We better find this guy. If he can’t tell who he’s attacking looking for “wolves”, he’ll start attacking anyone that fits his description. Make this your priority right now. Do we have anyway to track him?”

“He was on foot last I saw him,” Sloane said. “But we know he has a car somewhere. He managed to get away when I gave chase, so he’s in good shape. But I got his gun.”

“Miss Larkin can give us a description probably,” Nick said. “She’s being checked out at the hospital.”

“Alright, get a sketch artist with her and get that picture out there. Hopefully he’s not gotten out of town,” Renard said.

They nodded and headed back out and to the hospital. They waited outside while Carol spoke with the sketch artist, Monroe sighing. “She’s prettying shaken up, but the doctors said there’s no lasting damage.”

“That’s good,” Nick said.

“Yeah…” Sloane said. Nick glanced at her and frowned a little. She seemed a little perturbed. He figured it was because she couldn’t stop him, but something felt wrong.

“Well, for now, I’m going to go home for a bit…” Monroe said. “If you need me or find the little so and so, call me, okay?”

“Will do, man. See you later.”

Monroe nodded and waved to Carol through the observation window before heading out. The others all elected to split up, heading to their cars and away. Sloane hesitated but then drove instead for the spice shop instead. There was a feeling she couldn’t shake, tightness in her chest and shoulders that made it hard to breathe. She parked outside the shop and headed in. “Rosalee?”

“Sloane?” She came out from the back of the shop and smiled. “Hey. What are you doing here? Monroe called and told me about the busy day you’ve all had…”

“Yeah…Just…” She sighed and rubbed over her neck. She felt nervous suddenly and it was hard to hide it in front of Rosalee.

Rosalee frowned and walked over. “Are you okay? You look tense.”

“…I think I might’ve made a mistake…” she said quietly. “And I don’t think you’re going to like it. I know Nick, Hank and Monroe won’t…”

Rosalee looked at her worriedly and put a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, I’ll make some tea and we can talk about it. Even if I don’t like it, we can figure things out.”

“But what if you can’t let it go? Forgive it, I mean,” she asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

Rosalee smiled reassuringly as she led her to the back and had her sit down on a chair. “Sloane, you used to be a big bad Grimm. Not like Nick, but a real “hunt them down, leave no witnesses” kind of Grimm, right?”

Sloane felt that tightness again but nodded solemnly.

“But you’re still one of my best friends. I forgave that because I figured you were changing. And the fact you’re worried about how I’ll react to whatever you’ve done means you’ve changed a lot. If you slipped up, I know there must be a reason. Was there?”

“…Yeah…”

“Then we’ll talk about it and figure this out. And if you really think you made a mistake, we’ll figure out how to fix it, okay?”

Sloane smiled a little, grateful that Rosalee was already being good to her. “Okay…”

Rosalee nodded and brought over to the electric kettle she had, still fairly hot from an earlier tea break, and poured them both a cup. “Here. Chamomile, relaxing.” Sloane nodded, taking the cup and just holding it for a bit as she stared at it. “So…what happened? Did someone die?”

“No…I mean, yes, but not by my hands…” She took a breath and set the cup down. “Monroe told you everything?”

“Most everything. He said you were dealing with a blinder jager, that you found where his friend Pat was killed, talked to Jacob Farkas, and then found Carol tied up in her home. And you tried to chase down the perp.” Sloane’s brow twitched at perp and she smiled. “He might’ve gotten into use the lingo he hears on the crime dramas we watch sometimes. And he said he got away.”

Sloane nodded a bit. “He…did, technically…because I let him go.”

Rosalee’s eyes widened. “I…Sloane, you let him go?” Her tone was a little shocked and worried.

Sloane winced and looked at her. “I…know, it’s bad, he killed someone. But I talked to him, his name is Andrew Petrevski and…”

“And what? What made that okay?” Rosalee was trying not to get upset and Sloane hunched slightly over her teacup. This was one person she didn’t want to upset, one of her very few real friends.

“He told me about how his father died,” Sloane said quickly. “He was killed by a Blutbad when he was a teenager, after his dad hid him in the basement.”

Rosalee’s accusing look slackened. “…That’s not an excuse to go around murdering people…”

“I know. But…people thought he was crazy. He had to stay in an institution, medicated, all that. I...when oma died, they had me talking to psychologists. And I didn’t know to keep things secret, I just told them monsters killed her.  I knew they were thinking I might need to go somewhere like that. I was definitely looking at foster care, which I’ve heard isn’t much better sometimes unless you’re lucky.”

Rosalee softened a bit more. “So…you saw yourself?”

“A little, I guess…” she said quietly. “He got out and was doing okay. And then another wesen comes out to him, threatens him, and he defended himself and just…thought that meant monsters were everywhere. First his father, now him, and wondering how many other people get menaced and killed each year by monsters…I get that…”

Rosalee’s face turned a little more sympathetic. “…I do to. I lost my brother to some. But Sloane, he’s not a Grimm, he’s barely a Keirsheite-”

“He is now,” Sloane said. “I sat and explained the truth and told him to just…to just leave the hunting to us. That he should try and rebuild his life and go back to whatever normal is, and let the Grimms take care of the bad ones. And I explained there are good ones too…”

“You think he can just go back?” Rosalee asked uncertainly. “After killing people?”

“I don’t know…I just…I know I can never have that,” she admitted. “I’m a Grimm, there is no “normal life” for me, and to be honest at this point I don’t want one. But I know Nick does, and he can’t have that. And neither can Hank either for that matter. And I wondered how close I was to that kind of life, if Deirdre hadn’t gotten me when she did. So if he can just try to put it behind him again and know there are people out there doing the hunting…maybe he can go back to that.”

Rosalee sighed and put a hand on hers. “Sloane…that’s a nice sentiment, really. But he can’t have a normal life again. He’s always going to remember. And he killed Pat. Pat didn’t do anything to deserve that, did he? Or Carol? I’ve met Carol, she’s super nice, and he had her held captive and beat her?”

Sloane looked down. “Yeah…that’s why I started thinking I made a mistake letting Petrevski go…I just…wanted to give him a choice at least…”

“A choice?”

“To stop and leave and never take hunting like this into his hands again, or deal with us…Nick and I don’t have that choice. Probably never did.”

Rosalee took a breath and then put a hand on her shoulder. “Okay…well, maybe I don’t totally agree with what you did. But I do appreciate the thoughts behind it, and you trying to be kind and understanding and give him a choice even when he didn’t give his victims one.”

“…I’m not sure if that makes me feel better or worse,” Sloane said honestly. “Can’t you be angry at me and yell?”

“No,” she smiled. “Because if you’re feeling that I’ve done my job. Just know, I don’t hate you.”

Sloane chuckled slightly and leaned against Rosalee a little. “Thanks, Rosalee.”

She smiled and patted her back while they sipped their tea. They sat and chatted about other things, Sloane calming down. Eventually though Rosalee looked at the clock. “Ah, Monroe will be here soon, we’re going to go pick up Carol and have dinner and she’s going to stay with us tonight. Apparently she just needs some time to recover at home, nothing was extensively broken, but they’re still going over her house.” Sloane pulled a face any time she mentioned Monroe and Rosalee pulled a face right back. “Don’t look so sour.”

“I can’t help it, it’s Pavlovian by now,” Sloane said dryly.

Rosalee rolled her eyes. “You know, you two are more alike than you think. If you actually tried to get along I’m betting you’d be like a house on fire.”

“…That doesn’t sound like a good thing,” Sloane pointed out.

“I know, it’s something my mother always said and I never really got it either…But my point still stands, you two need to start trying to actually get along. For me?”

Sloane sighed and stood. “…I can’t guarantee anything…” she said, almost guiltily. “I’m trying to be less…traditional, but Blutbader are a whole other problem to me. I’ve seen too much…”

Rosalee frowned but patted her shoulder. “Okay…but just…be civil at least, okay?”

Sloane nodded with a sigh, “I’ll try. With him at least. I better go though so you can close up.”

Rosalee nodded and gave her a hug before Sloane headed back out to her car.

\------------------------

“So this guy isn’t a Grimm, but hunts wesen?” Juliette asked, setting the table.

“Yeah,” Nick said.

“So like me and Hank?”

Nick shook his head immediately. “No, because you two know that they are _wesen_ , not some kind of monster. Also, you don’t hunt them on your own, you both help me, and I have the resources to tell when they’re maybe actually a problem instead of just like…someone like Monroe or Rosalee. He’s not talking to them, he just hunts them. Like animals. Literally, he like…snared his victim and hanged him from the rafters.”

Juliette frowned. “I see…that’s definitely a problem of its own then, I see what you mean.”

Nick nodded and sighed. “I just hope we catch him before he hurts anyone else…” He paused when his phone rang and grabbed it up. “It’s Hank.” He stood and walked over to the hall to  answer the call, bracing himself. “Hey, did we find anything?”

“Not what we wanted,” Hank sighed. “One of the crime techs said he smelled something off in the house and had a sniffer dog brought in. Got a positive hit for explosives.”

“Explo-” He paused, glancing at Juliette before continuing more quietly. “Explosives?!”

“Yeah. But just residue, nothing actually in the house,” Hank said.

“Which means he probably has them with him,” he said, rubbing through his hair. “Shit, this might be so much worse than we first thought.”

“No kidding. Renard’s put the sketch around to other precincts too, we’re on high alert. I still need to warn Sloane though.”

“Yeah, okay…” Thanks for the heads up.

\-------------------------

Sloane was trying to relax at home, in bed on top of the covers. Trying and not doing well. The uncomfortable feeling was not going away, pulling at her chest and her gut like someone reaching through her back to try and hollow her out. She sighed as she tried to relax. Her grandmother’s journals were on her bedside table but she couldn’t bring herself to open one. She wasn’t sure why mercy felt so wrong. It wasn’t like she spared a dangerous wesen…just a dangerous human.

She groaned and stood to try and find something to distract her. Inspecting her weapons sounded fine. She started pulling things out to look them over for dull edges to sharpen or leather to wax. Like that spear…

When there was a knock at the door she paused and then quickly put the spear back in the closet before heading to the door. “Yes?” There was no answer and she frowned. Bracing herself against the door, she slowly cracked it open. There was no one there. Opening it just a bit more she scanned around and then down to the front porch. She noticed then package on the doorstep, about the size of a brick. Hesitating, she leaned down and plucked the note on top, opening it.

_Thank you for the truth._

_-Andrew P._

Sloane’s gut went cold for a second. She had absolutely not told Andrew where she lived. Looking around, she quickly went back in with the package and locked the door. She set the package on her bar and stared at it warily. After a moment she shook her head at herself for being so worried and used her nails to pull open the taped edges. Unwrapping the box, she blinked and somewhat relaxed when she saw it was a box of ammo. She flipped the lid up and saw that there were about 20 bullets left, all coated in silver. Looking at the wrapping, she saw another messaged scrawled inside. _I don’t need these anymore._

Sloane breathed out in relief and smiled slightly. Maybe things were going to work out after all.

She jumped when her phone rang and went to grab it from the coffee table. It was Hank according to the ID and she opened the call quickly. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Just calling to give you some bad news,” he sighed.

“How bad?” she asked, the worry coming back.

“We had a bomb sniffer dog out to Carol’s; one of the techs recognized the smell. We got a positive for explosives.”

“E-explosives?” she asked.

“Yeah. This guy apparently worked in a place that stored dangerous chemicals and the like, he has some knowledge of how to mix them. We’re not sure where he got supplies from, but he’s been making something at Carol’s. We don’t know what because it’s not on scene. He must’ve taken it with him.”

Sloane glanced at the box of bullets, a bad feeling creeping up her spine. _How did he know where I live?_ She looked around for anything out of place but it looked fine. She was certain no one had come inside. “…What do we do?”

“We can’t do much till we find him. We just have to hope he doesn’t use them.”

“Yeah…Let’s hope so.”

\------------------------

Rosalee helped Carol out of the car, supporting her as she got out. “You can stay as long as you like, really.”

“Thank you, but really, just until the police are done with my house is fine. I want to get back and get things back to normal as soon as possible.”

“You’ll be more careful who you let in your house though, right?” Monroe asked.

“Yes. Though you know I won’t turn away someone that needs help,” she said with a rueful smile.

He huffed but smiled, not surprised. “I asked Nick if he could get you some clothes from your house.” Holds up the bag. “They gave us pajamas and a couple sets of clothes.”

“Wonderful, thank you, Monroe,” she sighed. She moved to take it but he pulled it back.

“You’re wrists are still healing, I got it.”

She nodded, looking at her bandaged wrists with some aching look of pain and disappointment. “I suppose it’s going to be a while before things are back to normal…I don’t think I’m going to sleep well until that man is caught.”

“You’ll have to pardon me if I want him dead…” Monroe said quietly.

She nodded. “I understand, but…I guess I still hope he can be saved.”

Monroe didn’t comment. Rosalee thought about Sloane’s hopes in letting Petrevski go and sighed slightly, wondering if that was possible.

They showed Carol to the guest room, getting her settled. “I’ll head down to start on dinner. Oh, I should probably call Caleb too, let him know you’re okay.”

“I’ll help Carol to the guest room,” Rosalee said, taking the bag from Monroe and kissing his cheek. “Then we’ll cook dinner.”

Monroe smiled at her and took out his phone, finding Caleb’s number in the directory. “Monroe? Is everything okay?” he asked when he picked up.

“Mostly. Carol’s okay, we’ve got her. But that slimy so-and-so had her tied up for four days!”

“God…But she’s alright?”

“Yes, we brought her back from the hospital. She’s going to stay with us while the police search her house and for the hunter.”

“He got away?” he asked worriedly.

“Yeah. Slippery bastard…But don’t worry, Nick and the others are looking for him.”

“I suppose that’s good…”

Monroe knew that tone and sighed. “I know it’s weird, Caleb, but Nick’s a good guy.”

“I trust you, Monroe, but trusting a Grimm…” There was a pause. “Someone’s at my door…”

“Caleb? Caleb, I wouldn’t answer that…Caleb?” There was a shout on the other end and Monroe stood quickly. “Caleb?!”

He heard a laugh and Caleb sighed. “I’m sorry, Monroe, its fine. It’s my boyfriend, Michael, being an asshole.”

“Oh c’mon, I left my keys here!” he heard another voice say. “You scared me half to death with the claws and fangs! I got home early and I had to take an Uber home because your phone was tied up for a while…”

“I’m sorry, babe, but it’s been a day…Monroe, can I talk to you more later?”

Monroe smiled, relieved. “Yeah, that’s fine. But you called everyone else then?”

“Everyone I could on the phone tree, they know to be careful.”

“Great. Stay safe then.”

“You too.” They hanged up and Monroe sighed.

Meanwhile, Caleb hugged his boyfriend with his phone still in his hand. He was a good looking, slightly heavier-set man with fairer skin and a dark brown beard, dressed in a button-up shirt and slacks. “I’m sorry, babe, I didn’t know you’d gotten back early.”

“Yeah, the accounting job didn’t take as long as we first thought. What’s going on, you seem tense. Is this something to do with that guy that attacked you? I didn’t want to leave you alone if you weren’t feeling safe…”

Caleb sighed and pulled him towards the kitchen. “Let’s get something to drink and I’ll explain…”

He poured some whiskey as he explained the events of the day as he knew them. Michael listened, growing worried as well. “Christ, so there’s some mad killer out there?”

“Basically…and it’s not the guy I’d expect.”

“Well, here’s hoping this Grimm can get him because as much as I’d love to be your knight in shining armor, I’m just human and self-defense was not a priority to learn…”

Caleb smiled and took his hand. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you…”

Michael smiled back and gave him a kiss. “I’m pretty beat. Wanna go up and try to relax? Order some pizza?”

Caleb nodded and they headed upstairs. He paused when his phone beeped. “Huh, a text from the New Nature group chat…”

\------------------

“Monroe, I don’t suppose they found my phone?” Carol said as they were cleaning up dinner.

“Your phone? No, I don’t think so, they said they were still looking for it when they dropped off the clothes…”

Carol looked down at the table with a growing look of worry. “…I’ve been thinking…of how he knew where Pat lived…”

Monroe and Rosalee paused and looked at her. “His address?”

“He doesn’t put it on his site…he couldn’t have known it offhand…but…” she started tearing up. “My phone has my address book…And I have the names and numbers of so many of our members in there…and notes of what they are and where they live if I have them.”

Monroe glanced at Rosalee, who was worried as well, before grabbing his phone and quickly dialing Nick’s number.

Nick was also just finishing up dinner when his phone rang—a ringtone for Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like the Wolf” played on the cello that told him that Monroe was calling. He picked up with an apologetic look at Juliette as he picked up. “Monroe?”

“Nick, Carol brought up something we didn’t think of before. This hunter, he knew where Pat lived even though he’s unlisted.”

Nick blinked at the abruptness, but his detective mind starting turning as he stood to pace. “That’s true…”

“I know it because we have a contact tree at New Nature. And Carol has that same tree on her phone. The one that the police can’t find.”

“…shit,” he muttered. “Okay, so he has a bunch of wesen addresses. That’s bad…”

“No kidding,” Monroe said.

“I’ve got worse news though. We had a bomb sniffer dog out at Carol’s and he alerted to there being explosive residue in her place.”

“Oh God…” He glanced at Rosalee and Carol and then turned away again. “That is so, so much worse…”

“Are the other members of your church in the loop?” Nick asked.

“I talked to Caleb and he went down the tree contacting everyone and I’m sure their warning others, so hopefully they’ll be on alert.”

“That’s good, yeah. You be careful too though. And you might let them know to buddy up and check in with one another.”

“Good idea,” Monroe said, nodding to himself. “I’ll message as many as I can, let them spread the word too.”

“Great. Keep me posted too. And stay safe.”

“You too. Bye.”

“Bye.” Nick hanged up and sighed.

“Everything okay?”

“Not exactly. Petrevski has a list of possible victims and their addresses…”

“Oh no…” she said softly.

“Yeah…I’m going to call Sloane and Hank, let them know to be ready to go if he tries anything.”

\-----------------------

“So this is where you guys meet?” Michael asked, looking at the community center.

“Yeah. So, um, you’re going to meet a lot more wesen than ever before,” Caleb said. “But they’re all part of my group so you don’t have to worry.”

Michael smiled and put a hand on his again. “Cay, when you told me you’re Blutbader, we took a break to process it. But I came back. I’m prepared. Honestly, keeping up with your vegan diet is harder on me most of the time. And they better have food here because I’m starved.”

Caleb rolled his eyes but was still worried. “You say that, but you haven’t seen some of these guys woge before…”

“We’re here grouping up for safety, we’ll be alright. If I didn’t run when you went Long Chaney on me that first time, I’m not running this time.”

“You are such a dork,” Caleb sighed, but smiled and kissed his cheek. When they got out and started heading for the door however, he paused. “…Mike, get back to the car.”

“What? But-”

“Get back to the car!” He pushed his boyfriend, running with him. There was the bang of a door being forced open behind them and the sound of a shot gun cocking. There was a shot and a miss, and then another shot and Michael fumbled with a cry of pain.

“No!” Caleb gasped. He quickly turned back while the shooter was reloading and picked him up easily, rushing him to the car. He got him in the backseat and sped off, just as another shot broke his rear window. “Mike, Mike babe, talk to me!”

“M-my back…” He gasped. “It’s on fire…”

“Shit shit shit,” Caleb muttered, almost breaking the steering wheel. “We’re going to the hospital, just hold on!”

\-------------------------

Hank sighed as he finished his evening stretches, turning his ankle slightly. He was about ready for bed when his phone rang with Nick and Sloane’s numbers both popping up.

“Guys?” he asked. “You’re both calling at once?”

“Yeah,” Sloane said. “Nick called me, insisted on a three way.”

“Phrasing, Sloane. But yeah, we have a conference call on.”

“Why?”

“A problem. Monroe called me and he thinks Petrevksi has Carol Larkin’s phone, which has an address book full of wesen. That’s how he found Marlow’s house.”

“Oh, that’s fantastic,” he deadpanned.

“Yeah…” Sloane said, sounding tightly contrite. “I’m sorry I let him get away…”

“It’s alright, you tried,” Nick said. He couldn’t see the slight flinch in her face on the other end of the line. “I got Monroe calling and letting the church members know.” He paused when his phone beeped and looked at it. “That’s him now, let me patch him through.” He pressed the buttons and put it back on. “Monroe?”

“Nick, we have a problem,” he rushed out.

“What?” they all said at once.

“Uh, okay, you’re all here, good,” he said, surprised a moment. He quickly got his mind back on track. “Carol’s phone messaged Caleb before I could call him, telling him to come to the meeting room, that our group will meet up for the night to be safe.”

“And I didn’t send it!” they heard a hysterical Carol cry out.

“He set a trap for them and…it worked,” he choked out.

“Monroe, what happened?” Nick asked quickly.

“Caleb and his boyfriend Michael went to the community center, thinking they were meeting with a group for safety. When he got close though, he smelled gunpowder and some other odd scents that shouldn’t be there...”

“Petrevksi…” Hank said.

“Yeah. They ran back to the car, but…Caleb’s boyfriend Michael got hit. He took him to the hospital, said it was a mugging gone wrong. I called to tell him about the address book problem while he was there. Mike’s in surgery right now. The guy’s a Keirsheite; he’s not even wesen and this maniac...”

“I don’t think he cares to check anymore,” Nick said darkly.

Sloane was quiet, looking at a spot on the floor of her living room as she took that all in. “Where was this?”

“The High Hills community center,” Monroe said. There was a beep and he blinked. “Sloane?”

“She hanged up,” Nick said, looking at the call.

 “Goddamit,” Hank said. “We better head there too.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Monroe said.

“What about the other members?” Nick asked.

“Right, got to warn them…I can use the group chat like he did-”

“No, then he’ll see it. Send a mass text or something like that, leave out Carol’s number,” Nick said.

“Right, good idea. I’ll do that and head over.”

They hanged up and Nick stood to go get his jacket.

“I’ll get my co-”

“No, Juliette, no this time.”

“Nick, I can fight-”

“I know, trust me, you do great. But if this guy thinks he can take down a “werewolf” or whatever, he’s got something up his sleeve and I don’t know what.” That was a small lie, he knew it was probably something designed to explode but he didn’t want Juliette to know that just yet. “The fewer factors we need to worry about, the better. Go over to Rosalee’s, he might have their address and she and Carol will feel better having you there if Monroe joins us.”

Juliette frowned but then nodded. “Okay…but be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?” He tried to joke. He kissed her quickly and rushed for the door.

The drive up to the High Hills Community center was tense as he tried to think of what must be happening. Petrevski had more skills than they were aware of it seems. He didn’t think he could keep getting the drop on the wesen when they were on high alert, so something else must be happening. When he got to the parking lot, Sloane and Hank were talking and Monroe was just pulling up as well.

“Hey,” Nick said, jogging up. “Any change?”

“Not that I know of,” Sloane said. “I just got here and Hank kept me from going in alone…”

“Because it’s better we all know what’s going on,” Hank said firmly.

“He’s right. We have strength in numbers, let’s use it,” Nick agreed.

Sloane bit her tongue wanting to say something but finally nodded. They headed up to the main door. “This is the one Caleb and his boyfriend were about to go through?”

“More than likely, it is the front door…” Monroe said. “But it smells different. There’s like a thick smell in the air, I can’t pick up any other scents. He must’ve doused the place in something.” Nick nodded and reached for the handle, giving it a try. It was unlocked and he opened it slowly, looking through the crack. “I don’t see him…” He opened it more and the slipped through. There was a slick trail through the hall and they recognized the overwhelming smell of bleach now that it was in their faces. They stepped carefully through the puddles and swathes of liquid. As they were walking down the hall though, Sloane grabbed Nick by the arm.

“Wait…”

“What is it?”

Sloane pointed to want looked to be fishing line pulled tight a few inches above the floor. She followed it with her flash light up to what appeared to be a make-shift bomb.

“Are you kidding me?” Hank whispered harshly. “Is that a bomb?”

“Is that thing real?” Monroe said.

“Looks like it, but it’s pretty simple...Goddamit!” she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “The Sulphur smell! I knew that smell, I knew it was an ingredient in explosives, but I didn’t make the connection! I smelled it at Larkin’s house!”

“It’s part of what the dog picked up on too I think,” Hank said.

“There was saltpeter, which smells similar to gunpowder too,” she sighed. “I smelled that on him when I tackled him. But I didn’t investigate more, I didn’t think…”

“So that thing could be real?” Hank said.

“Probably. Even homemade, it’ll do the job of blowing us apart if we aren’t careful…” Sloane said.

“So he was hoping to get a big group here and then blow them up?” Monroe said, blood boiling a little. “Caleb was just a test?”

“He’s good at traps…” Sloane said softly.

“What?” Nick asked.

“Nothing. Just…watch where you step.” She stepped over the wire, as did the men, and they continued on through the hall as quietly and cautiously as possible. They heard something moving up ahead and moved a little faster. They came to a hall way that split left and right. Right led to a door that went outside.

“Split up?” Nick suggested.

“What happened to strength in numbers? Does this seem like Scooby-Doo to you?” Monroe asked.

“Depends, are you Scooby?” Sloane asked. He gave her an annoyed look and she smirked.

“It’s the best option right now,” Nick said. “Monroe and Sloane, head back outside.”

Sloane’s head snapped back to him. “Are you serious?”

Nick didn’t back down or look amused by her knee-jerk reaction. “You and Monroe have more experience hunting outside in the woods than we do. We know how to handle ourselves indoors.”

Sloane glared but couldn’t deny that had logic to it. She looked at Monroe, who didn’t look thrilled either. “…Let’s go, Scooby.”

He rolled his eyes. “Right behind you, Freddy.”

“Why am I-Never mind,” she muttered, heading for the door. She paused to look it over for traps before pushing it open.

“Should we worry about them killing each other before Petrevski even tries?” Hank asked.

“I’m hoping they can at least pause in the arguments to work together…” Nick sighed.

The two detectives kept to the left, down a hall with several doors. They moved slowly, deliberately, looking through windows for any sign of movement. They heard the creak of something move in one room and paused. Looking to each other, they nodded and slipped forward, Nick moving around one side of the door while Hank took the other. Nick tried the handle and it turned and slowly moved inward. As it did, there was a click and they both threw themselves away from the door as a spray of white foam shot out.

“The hell?!”

The foam filled up the hall as well as a gas, and they coughed and swiped at it. Managing to look into the door, Nick saw a fire extinguisher had been rigged to fire when the door opened. “Goddamit!” he managed between coughs, fighting his way around the side and managed to yank the contraption that fired it off. Hank followed him in, wiping down his front ineffectually of the white powder left behind.

“I feel like I’m fighting Macaulay Culkin…But like, if he was a serial killer.”

“He wasn’t far off in those movies if you think about it,” Nick muttered. They both jumped when the door suddenly slammed shut. “Shit!” He went over to try it and jumped when Petrevski’s face appeared in the window.

“I wouldn’t do that, detective…” He pointed up and Nick looked to see some sort of sensor at the top of the door, and another round of explosives. “The trigger engaged when I closed the door after the fire extinguisher went off. You try to open it again and they’ll be scraping you off the wall. The windows are rigged too, so I don’t recommend that.”

“What the hell?” Hank muttered. He looked and saw that indeed the windows were all rigged with their own triggers going to several sticks of dynamite suspended high on the wall. “How the hell did you do this?”

“The Chinese invented explosives centuries ago, in a pretty simple recipe of ingredients I could find at most home-improvement shops. No background checks required. Learned it on the job back in Kansas.”

Nick glared at him. “Why are you doing this?”

Petrevski looked at him solidly for a while. “…You’re a Grimm? You see those…things all the time?”

Nick was surprised he knew that but nodded slowly. “Yeah. I am and I do.”

“But you don’t kill them?” he accused.

“Not when I can help it.”

He glared now. “You’re weak. You and that woman. Showing mercy to a bunch of monsters.”

“They aren’t monsters!” Nick said. “The man you shot was human!”

Petrevski flinched, looking a haunted for just a moment before solidifying his glare. “He was with that wolf. He betrayed his own kind. And that was a dry run to try and lure them out.”

“Hate to break it to you, creep, but we already warned everyone else away from you. No one else is falling into your trap.”

He glared. “Well…you two did. And so will your friends.” He stepped away.

“Petrevski! Stop!” He was about to reach for the handle but managed to stop himself. “Goddamit! We have to warn Sloane and Monroe!” He reached into his pocket for his phone and tried to dial Sloane’s number, but it wasn’t connecting. “Goddamit, those woods are a freaking dead zone!”

“So’s this room if we aren’t careful…” Hank said somberly.

\--------------

Sloane had her knife in her hand and the fact she wasn’t using it to fight the Blutbad next to her felt wrong. It went against her training, her instincts. But she didn’t turn to fight him.

“Can you see anything?” Monroe asked.

“My night vision is better than average when I try,” she said blandly.

“Well, get trying because we need to find this little bastard.”

Sloane gave a huff but focused her vision. While not as bright as daylight, things did turn suddenly much easier to see in the dark forest.

“Holy hell!” She looked at him and he backed away a little. “Geeze…Your eyes, uh…”

“My irises went black?” She guessed. “They do that when I activate my Grimm senses.”

“…Do you, uh…see me…?” he asked.

She hesitated but looked away. “No… You do still need to woge for me to see you. Then my whole eyes go black, or so I’m told,” she said honestly. “Otherwise this would be even more uncomfortable for both of us.”

Monroe didn’t respond to that, continuing through the woods. Several minutes passed before he paused, breathing deep. “I smell him…this way.” He turned and headed a little quicker through the woods. They got to a small clearing and he sniffed more. “He’s close. He…is a jacket,” he finished lamely, noting the jacket in the middle of the clearing. “Dammit, I thought we had him!”

“He probably is close, this is just-Monroe!” Sloane barked when she noticed he was heading towards the jacket.

“What?” he turned. It was the first time she really used his name. But even distracted he was still walking and froze when he felt something snap under his foot. He yelled when more snaps echoed through the woods and he felt the ground give way under him.

“Shit!” she rushed over and looked down. “I was saying it was a trap, you dolt!”

“Yeah, I got that now…” he wheezed.

“…You injured?”

“No, I don’t’ think so…just got the wind knocked out of me…” He looked up and grimaced. “And this hole is a little too deep. I can’t reach the edge…”

Sloane sighed and stabbed her knife into the soft ground next to her and got down on her stomach to reach down for him. “Grab on, I can try and pull you out.”

“What, not gonna leave me here alone?” he asked, honestly surprised.

“Would if I could, but I don’t want Nick and Rosalee angry with me…”

Monroe huffed but reached up for her hand and Sloane reached back, grunting as their fingertips just barely brushed together. “Motherf-How deep did he dig this hole? And how?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to have to go find something else to get you out…Ugh, but if I leave you alone, he might come back for you…In which case I could get him from behind…” she mused, formulating a plan.

“You are not using me as bait! This is why I called you Freddy! Freddy uses Scooby and Shaggy as bait all the time!”

Sloane frowned but sighed. “Okay, okay, calm down…I’ll call Nick and have him bring some rope from my car or something from the community center.” She sat up on her knees and pulled out her phone. “Aaand, no signal, perfect…” She paused and leaned over slightly when she saw something through the trees. It was a piece of heavy equipment, the kind you could rent from hardware stores, and a huge pile of dirt under a green tarp. “I do see how he made this hole, there’s a freaking steam shovel over there…” She smiled. “Okay, hold on. I’ll get that and use it to get you out.”

“Alright…” Monroe said dubiously.

As Sloane moved to rise, she only just caught the sound of someone running up behind her. She turned only a fraction of a second before Petrevski body checked her like a linebacker, sending her stumbling back. Her heel caught the edge of the pit and she yelled as she went down and her shoulder hit the wall. She felt something pop and gritted her teeth at a flash of pain. Monroe managed to catch her somewhat and ease her fall, but they both went sprawling into the pit that was only barely being enough for them to stand together in.

“You!” Sloane yelled up. “What the hell are you doing?!” She lifted her arms as if to climb and hissed at another bloom of pain in her right shoulder, bringing it down and holding it with her other arm. Monroe actually squeezed her slightly in worry at the obvious pain.

“Your job,” Petrevski called down. “You said it yourself, you went soft. You stopped being a Grimm, stopped hunting these “wesen” monsters. Well I may not have your fancy eyes, but I can do what needs to be done!”

Monroe stared up at him then looked at Sloane. “Why…does he know all that?”

Sloane gritted her teeth, the pain in her shoulder and the truth coming out both twisting her gut. “Not now.”

He stared before his jaw dropped. “You-you got the chance to talk with him? About all this? And he got away?”

Petrevski chuckled. “She let me go, Blutbad. And told me about you and your friends. And all about her too.”

Monroe glared at her. “You let this little psycho go?!”

She glared back and then up at their trapper. “I let you go so you could live a normal life again, not to do this.”

He shook his head with an almost sad smile on his face. “I don’t have a life to go back too. I gave it all up to hunt these monsters. You understand.” He reached down and pulled her knife from the dirt where it still was embedded. “You told me all about how your grandmother died. And why it turned your stomach your fellow Grimm worked with a Blutbad.” Monroe frowned and then moved back when he threw the knife down, landing at their feet. “You saw them kill her…those blood red eyes you still have nightmares about you said. Can you forgive one of their kind so easily?”

Sloane was quiet, not looking at Monroe even though she could feel his eyes on her. She didn’t see the look of realization on his face.

“If you kill him, I’ll get you out of there,” Petrevski said.

“...I can’t do that,” Sloane said. “Whatever I feel, he’s my friends’ friend. I can’t just kill him.”

Petrevski sneered. “If you’re worried about that other Grimm and the detective, they’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

Monroe looked up. “What did you do?”

He smiled coldly. “I trapped them in a room with more dynamite. Like I told them, it’s amazing what you can get without a background check at the right sources. Including this.” He held up a little device. “I’m going to detonate that whole building soon. First, I need to finish some arrangements. You messed up my first plan to get a whole group of monsters here, but I’ll figure something else out.” He stood. “I’ll come back in an hour. If he’s not dead…I’ll just bury you both and be done with it. But if you want to actually do what you’re supposed to do, then I think we can work something out.”

Sloane glared but he turned and walked off. Growling in frustration, she punched the side of the hole. A little dirt flaked off and scratched her hands, but otherwise nothing. She grunted and held her shoulder again.

“You’re hurt?”

“My shoulder dislocated I think…” she muttered. “I can’t climb like this, even with a boost, or give you a boost…”

“Shit…” he muttered.

Sloane didn’t say anything. Instead she just sank down and sat on the earthen floor. Monroe stared before he sat down across from her. It was quiet for a few minutes before he spoke up again. “Your grandmother…was killed by Blutbader?” Monroe asked quietly.

Sloane looked at him, ready to snap at him to shut up, but she was halted by the look on his face. Not defensive or angry or proud like she expected but actually soft. Humble. Sympathetic. Monroe always struck her as odd for a Blutbad—weider aside—but the empathy he could show her even now made something in her finally uncoil. She took a deep breath. “There were others…Hundjager, Malan-Fatale…But three Blutbader. I remember them because they were the ones who tore out her throat while I watched in the cupboard…” He flinched but didn’t say anything. “It took everything for me not to scream and one almost heard me.” She cradled her arm a little tighter. “One must’ve heard the small sound I did make and came close to where I was hiding. I saw his red eyes and…red teeth. I can’t forget that face. Oma had given him a nice cut across one eye before going down and I couldn’t tell where her blood and his blood differed. It was only because that cupboard was hidden in the wall and heavily coated with wolfsbane he didn’t smell me out. They looked for me though, and any Grimm things for trophies, but they couldn’t get inside the basement. Then they left. I don’t know how long I stayed put before I finally managed to push the door open with the table in the way, but I did and…I just…I didn’t know what to do…so I just laid down with Oma and waited for…something.” She leaned her head against the wall of dirt. “It was two days before the police came and found me. I was alive but dehydrated and famished and…well, I think we can agree that had a pretty profound effect on me to say the least. Five more days of treatment and Deidre came for me and…the rest is history.”

Monroe was quiet a long time before slowly reaching out and gently patting her good shoulder. “I’m sorry…I’m not blind that a lot of Blutbader are monsters, really. Believe me…” He sighed and looked up at the sky from the hole in the ground. “My parents eat meat, but our family always tried to stay civilized. We didn’t belittle what our ancestors did, but hey, it’s the age of cars and grocery stores. We aren’t fighting for food, it’s easier to just go pick up a side of beef than hunt a man or an animal. So that’s what we did. Occasionally we might’ve gone hunting for rabbits as kids, a deer if we were feeling adventurous, just to get the old hunting instinct out of the way. But we had a whole freezer full of meat if we didn’t catch anything so there was no need to hinge a person’s life on it. It was an unwritten rule, no hunting humans, and only fights them if they start it. I didn’t always follow that one, I was kind of a ball of hormones as a teen-“”

“Was there a point to this?” Sloane sighed. “Cause if you’re trying to numb the pain by droning on, it’s only half working.”

“Sorry,” he said a little ruefully. “My point is, my family eats regular store bought meat and I used to as well. Then…I made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” Sloane said slowly.

Monroe sighed again and rubbed through his hair. “When I was 18 I’d just graduated high school and I didn’t want to go right to college. I wanted to travel, see Germany myself, just me and a backpack and what money I’d saved up that wasn’t going to college with me. My parents thought it was a great idea but gave me a weird instruction: don’t mingle with Blutbader who wear anything bright red. Seemed like a weird instruction. I mean red does things to us, obviously, but why not talk to Blutbader in red? I didn’t think to ask why, I didn’t really listen to the explanation, and I was just pumped to go. So I flew over, started backpacking around, had a great time. Until this one town…” He swallowed a bit. “I met a guy at a tavern, dude was wearing this _bright_ red shirt, but he also had this wolf tattoo. I said I liked it, we got to talking, and we managed to figure out we had a lot in common.”

“He was a Blutbad,” Sloane guessed.

“Yeah. German, from a town over, he came there with his friends to have some fun he said. He asked if I’d like to join them. I was alone in a weird country, didn’t have any other friends in town, I was honestly grateful for the chance. So we went out and I met his friends, a bunch of other Blutbader boys and girls, ranging from my age to twice my age. A kind of makeshift pack. We go out to the woods, start playing around like Blutbader do till way late at night. They invited me back to where their staying at a hostel. Said they had a lot of leftover food from yesterday and drink and we could party more human like there. So I did. They had this really…tender meat there. It was soft and succulent and though it tasted kind of…porky, I hadn’t had anything quite like it. So we ate up and then I fell asleep for a while before it was morning and we went down to get some coffee for our hangovers. While we were down there, these people…were putting up fliers for this missing boy. I took one when this crying woman handed it to me. Cute kid, a little on the big side, all blonde and freckled with dimples…Only 11 years old. The guys around me start chuckling and I’m confused why. A missing kid isn’t funny. Then they said “They won’t be finding him any time soon.” I asked why and the guy in the red shirt said we finished him off last night.”

“Oh God…” Sloane grimaced.

Monroe nodded, not defending her disgust at the revelation. “Yeah…I felt sick. I literally sprang up and knocked my chair over rushing outside. I ran as far as I could before I threw up and then I just…dug a hole and buried it…I don’t know if I was hiding my shame or trying to give whatever was left a burial.” He rubbed at his eyes a little. “I got my stuff and got out without them seeing and I didn’t know what to do. I had never eaten a person before, and the fact that I _liked_ the taste made it worst. I didn’t know what to do either because what could I possibly say to police to get them to look into it? “Yeah, these guys kidnapped and ate this kid because they’re all wesen and so am I but I didn’t mean to eat him?” So I didn’t say anything and returned home. But any time I looked at meat I just saw freckles and dimples and had that taste in my mouth and wanted to puke. I didn’t want to go to college and my parents were worried, but I didn’t know how to tell them. I didn’t know what to do. I just pulled back from everything Blutbad, from them and my friends. I got scared of them. Till I met a couple from the weider church. I pursued that as hard as I could. My ninth step was writing the police back in Germany and telling them some of what happened by then 3 years ago. I couldn’t exactly say it was a bunch of Blutbader who kidnapped and ate him, but I said it was this group of people that killed him for fun and listed off what names I could remember. And it actually worked. They caught several of them and one of the guys got scared and led them to the boy’s bones. I saw it in the news, and I felt…better. It was something. The kid would have a real burial, his family could mourn him. But I still went through with the rest of the steps until I cut meat out completely. I didn’t want to be like those Blutbader, ever,” he said definitively. “I may get a little wild fighting other wesen with you and Nick, but that’s because I don’t want those kind of wesen hurting others ever again. I want to punish these kinds of acts as much as you do, and it’s not always easy to be proud of what I am but I am because there’s lots of other things I do love about my family and our kind. But not this.”

Sloane was quiet a few moments before nodding slowly. “…I’m sorry.”

He blinked and looked at her. “For what?”

“For letting Petrevski get away. I felt sympathy for him. He lost his father to a Blutbad when he tried to save him. But…the fact is, he’s been killing people that never did anything to him, that were trying to make up for bad things they did and some that didn’t do anything wrong. He hurt some of your friends…and he ended up hurting our friends too, because of my mistake.” She looked down. “Things aren’t black and white when it comes to being a Grimm. I wanted it to be, because that would be a lot easier, but it isn’t…Nick is right.”

“…It’s not a mistake to sympathize with people. Especially ones that went through something you understand. You gave him a chance to stop and do better and he didn’t do it. That’s on him. And the fact you didn’t kill me when he said shows that at least you care enough to…not kill me.”

Sloane looked at him and gave a small smile. “Well…you are kind of useful now and then.”

Monroe gave a small huff of laughter and leaned against the side of the hole. “Not right now though…”

“Neither am I with this shoulder…Nick and Hank are in danger…” She sighed. “And he’s going to bury us alive when he comes back if I don’t…” Sloane paused and looked at her knife on the ground.

Monroe followed her gaze and then looked back at her worriedly. “Hey now, I thought we were finally having a moment…”

“We are…and I just got an idea…”

\----------------

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Nick asked.

“No, but it’s the best one we have,” Hank said. “This asshole wants to play Rube Goldberg machine death match, we gotta get on his level.”

“You watch Home Alone a lot more than I realized…”

“Hey, we all have our Christmas movie traditions. Home Alone and Diehard are mine. Now, get in the closet.”

Nick went to the supply closet on the other side of the room they managed to clear out. It would be a tight fit for the two of them, but it wasn’t rigged to explode and would provide a bit of a cover. It also had a bag full of rags for cleaning and they’d managed to cut them with Hank’s pocket knife and tie them into a make-shift rope. Everything else was dumped on the floor and the shelves and brackets tossed out to give them plenty of room and decrease the hazards. Also using the knife, he’d loosened the door hand just enough that it would pull open with a bit of pressure.

Following Nick into the closet, Hank took a deep breath. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Nick responded. Hank closed the closet door just slightly, and then quickly pulled the rope and closed it. There was the sound of the door being knocked open before a beep and then they felt the room rock violently and several explosions go off. Reflexively they grabbed onto each other. When the shaking stopped, they both slowly opened their eyes. They were alive, which was a good sign.

“You good?” Hank asked.

“Yeah…yeah. You?”

He nodded and slapped a hand on his back. “Yeah…Let’s hope we aren’t buried alive now…”

“You conveniently didn’t mention that possibility before…”

Hank pushed against the door and grunted when it didn’t move. “Help me out here.”

Nick pushes as well and the door started sliding roughly, like pushing wood over sandpaper, across the floor. They had to throw their whole body against it and heard more things crashing over before they managed to get the door open enough to slide out. “Holy crap…” The room was in shambles. The door to the hall was blown out, the windows along the outer wall were broken or gone, the tables and chairs closest to the door were splintered and cracked. Surprisingly it wasn’t as much damage as he expected.

“That son of a bitch,” Hank muttered, going over to the windows. “Half of these by the windows weren’t real! Just putty and cotton stuffing!” He picked some up, letting it waft slowly back down. “He fooled us…”

“The point is we’re okay, and right now we need to find Sloane and Monroe before he does.”

Hank nodded. “And hopefully someone heard that and will call the cops for back up. After I kick this guy’s ass,” he added. Since one of the windows was destroyed, they hoped over and made directly for the woods.

\-----------------

Sloane waited, standing with her back against the all, nursing her shoulder and a couple of scratches on her arm. She had her knife in her hand, red smeared across it. Monroe was lying on the ground on his side, eyes closed and still.

Sloane took a breath when she heard footsteps and looked up. Petrevski’s shadow fell over the hole and blocked out what moonlight was getting to them.

“You did it?”

“Of course I did it! Now get me out of here or Nick is going to kill me next.”

He seemed excited but was keeping it contained. “I’ll be back.” Sloane sighed and rubbed over her face. She heard an engine start up and knew he was probably driving the back-hoe over to them. As she heard it come closer, over the mild thunder of the engine, she heard an echoing clap of sound.

Monroe tensed and opened his eyes. “What was that?” he hissed.

“Shut up and keep playing dead or you won’t be playing,” she hissed back.

“I play dead way too often…” He quickly went still again when the backhoe got close.

The shovel extended down and then the motor shut off. Petrevski got close again and looked down. “Do you need a hand up?”

“Yeah, my shoulder is messed up…” He leaned down to offer his hand and she took it, climbing up over the arm of the backhoe to get out.

“Do you need a doctor?”

“Possibly…what was that sound before? I just barely heard it over the engine.”

Petrevski grinned and Sloane felt for the first time really that he’d lost his mind by the manic gleam in his eyes. She’d hoped he hadn’t gone off the deep end completely but if setting traps in community centers hadn’t convinced her, the almost gleeful smile did. He was having fun killing people. “That other Grimm and the detective must’ve tripped one of the switches in the room I left them in. So no more worries about them.”

Sloane paused. “You…you blew up Nick and Hank?”

“Yeah. I made a fun trap for them-”

Sloane grabbed him around the throat with her good hand and actually held him up with his feet dangling. “I’m going to kill you!” She yelled, her vision heightened to the point even he must see the dark, pitch black transformation of her eyes. Judging by the sudden fear in them she knew he did. But Petrevski was a fighter a moment later he brought his fist down into her injured shoulder. She yelled and let go and he scrambled back.

He was panting but the fear was turning to anger quickly, making his body tense and ready to fight. “You’re still defending them? They were holding you back! You said you used to hunt these things down without remorse! Now what are you?”

Sloane gritted her teeth. She’d asked herself that before, dealt with the image of herself as she should be and as she was now. But having him question her…

“They are my friends!” she bit out. He glared back and his hand moved behind him. Sloane rushed him in a parody of what he did to her and tackled him to the ground. She punched him across the face and he growled as they rolled and he punched her back. She struck him in the side where his kidneys would be with her good arm, but he pressed his forearm against her throat, putting his whole weight down to pin her. He mashed his fist into her injured shoulder, making her see starts and gasp for breath past her blocked windpipe.

“I thought I’d finally found someone who would understand…” he rasped. He reached in back and pulled out another gun, this one a modern handgun, pressing it to her temple. “I’ll blow those pretty eyes out of your head!”

There was a snarl like a beast and Petrevski was suddenly wrenched off of her. Sloane gasped in a deep breath, her head spinning from the sudden burst of oxygen. She looked up to see Monroe, woged, toss the man across the clearing, the gun skittering away through the leaves. Petrevski was startled but trying to get to his feet.

“D…don’t let him get away,” she gasped, trying get up and move.

Monroe moved to tackle him again but stepped back when he pulled out a grenade. “Shit!”

“I pull this pin and toss it, you’ll go sky high,” Petrevski spat out.

“You might too!” Monroe shot back. “Just stop this! No one else has to die!”

“I disagree…I’ll see you and your kind all be wiped out or die trying, monster!” He moved to pull the pin but before he could he gave a shuddering gasp as Sloane plunged the knife into his side. Sloane kept his eyes on hers as she pushed it in deeper, slow enough he could feel it and gasp again like he was trying to scream.

“You move, I pull this and let you bleed out. How’s that for an ultimatum?”

He stared at her a moment before whispering. “Why…? After what they did to your grandmother?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” she said. “Just put the grenade down and stop this.”

He stared a moment before pulling the pin anyway, gripping the grenade tight.

“Sloane!” Monroe grabbed her around the middle and ran for the trees, moving behind the nearest one.

He then pressed her head against his shoulder, his other hand over her ear, and protected his ear against her head with his hand over his other. Just as he did there was a loud explosion that she felt through her whole body and realized he was trying to save their hearing from the blast. Once it was quiet he relaxed his hold and looked up. Even she could smell the blood now.

“I…I didn’t think he’d actually…” she said quietly, shaking slightly.

“He was too far gone,” Monroe said. “He probably just wanted to die in a hail of bullets at this point, and take anyone he could with him.”

“…Thanks for making sure it wasn’t me…” she said honestly.

Monroe smiled and stood, helping her to her feet by her good arm. “Yeah, well…You’re not so bad for a Grimm.”

She smiled back. “And I suppose you’re not so bad for a Blutbad…I mean, saving me from a grenade does count for something.”

Monroe huffed and then started laughing. It was a bit giddy, the adrenaline petering out, but it was also one of relief. “Oh my God, I did that…”

Sloane chuckled as well but then looked up when she heard someone yelling.

“Sloane! Monroe!” Nick was trying to fight through the trees.

“Over here!” Monroe yelled.

He managed to finally get around to them, panting. “You’re okay?”

“You’re okay?” Sloane shot back, looking him over. “He said he blew you up!”

“Yeah, we detonated them on purpose while we took cover…But I heard another one—”

“Grenade,” Monroe said. “He, uh…was holding on to it.”

Nick paused and leaned over slightly to look behind the tree. “…shit…”

“Yeah…We got a cover story for this?” Sloane asked.

“Hank is working on that now. He’s called the police and we’re saying Petrevski was a domestic terrorist. Not that far from the truth...I guess we’ll say he blew himself up.”

“Also true,” Sloane nodded, then grunted and supported her shoulder.

“Sloane’s hurt,” Monroe said. “We should get her to a doctor.”

Nick frowned, looking her over. “I gotta wait for the backup…You shouldn’t be here, Monroe, there will be too many questions.”

“Then I can take her,” he said simply. “There should be a local emergency center nearby.”

Nick was about to try and save Monroe from whatever biting remark Sloane had when she nodded. “I’d appreciate it, thanks. I don’t think I can fix this on my own.” Nick gaped and she looked up at him with a frown. “What?”

“You…nothing. Go on then, we’ll take care of the rest,” he said, keeping his tongue in check.

Sloane nodded and she and Monroe walked towards where the community center would be, Nick following, making sure to mark the path. He paused though when something shiny caught his attention and he moved back. Stuck in a tree was Sloane’s knife. It must’ve been very close to the blast to travel like that. Grabbing the hilt, he grimaced as some of the leather wrapped around the handle flaked off in his hands. Rocking it along, he was able to pull it out. The blade was still in one piece, being well made, the filigree _G_ near the handle still visible even through a tiny bit of scorching. He knew Sloane would want it back, but it was not in great condition. The handle was scorched, cracking, and it needed sharpening. Sighing, he hid the knife inside his inner jacket pocket to keep it away from the forensics team likely on their way.

As he jogged to catch up, Hank was confirming things with Sloane and Monroe and they walked to Sloane’s car. They watched as she easily handed off the keys to her car so Monroe could drive and they climbed in. There was a backroad out they took to avoid any questions of being seen.

“They don’t seem to want to kill each other all of a sudden,” Hank commented, noticing too the relaxed atmosphere around them now.

“Yeah. Guess they worked it out,” Nick said with a smile. Then he sighed with resignation. “Now we gotta work all this out.”

“Lucky us,” he said as they watched the police cars pull up.

\----------------------------

“And I’m telling you, absolutely not,” Sloane said. Her right arm was resting in a sling to keep it immobile while her dislocated shoulder healed, but that didn’t stop her left hand from gesturing her disagreement with the man across from her.

“Oh c’mon, you know I’m right,” Monroe said.

“I know your right out of your head,” she shot back.

Rosalee sighed as she walked in. “Are you two arguing again?” she asked despondently, setting the box of herbs she was carrying down. “I thought you were finally starting to get along.”

Sloane and Monroe blinked before looking at one another and then back at her. “We are,” they said together.

“This is more just a debate than an argument,” Sloane said.

“About what?” Rosalee asked.

“Worst smelling wesen,” Monroe said simply. “I maintain that the faeteo fatalis is the worse. I was bunkmates with one in summer camp, and with my sense of smell it was a wonder my nose didn’t burn off.”

Sloane rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying it’s not bad, but I had to fight a Masova Hniloba once. Its name is Czech for “Flesh Rot”. Guess what he smelled like.”

Rosalee stared before she started laughing. “Why…why did you even get on that subject?”

“Update from Caleb,” Monroe said, pulling it up on his phone and showing her. “Michael made it out of surgery and Caleb tried to break up with him.”

“Wait, what?” Rosalee asked, concerned.

“He felt responsible for what happened to him,” Monroe said. “Luckily it was actually pretty minor, most the buckshot grazed him and left a few pellets they were able to get out. But still.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rosalee said with a look of sympathy.

“Don’t’ be, Michael refused his break-up,” Monroe laughed. “Apparently he really, really loves Caleb. He doesn’t care that some psycho tried to kill them, he’s just glad they’re both alright and he refuses to let it stand in the way. He had a ring and was going to propose to Caleb soon, and did it in the hospital.” He showed her the picture of Caleb with a gold band around his finger. “Michael says as he’s concerned but if they lived through this, they can take on anything.”

“That’s great! But…why are you arguing about stinky wesen?”

Monroe laughed. “Well, apparently the ring is too big, so they need to get it resized. And I said that stinks like a raya blanco.”

“To which I said that wasn’t the worst smelling wesen, and…” Sloane gestured with her hand to say ‘here we are’.

Rosalee shook her head, laughing at their train of thought. “Well, as long as you two are getting along.”

“Eh…Your Blutbad is pretty good once you get to know him,” Sloane said, sipping her tea as if she hadn’t refused to even try for nearly 10 months to do just that. Monroe grinned, going back to sorting herbs. “Ah…speaking of which, I do owe you at least one specific apology.”

“For what?”

“Eh…I guess doubting you.” Sloane reached into the bag at her side and pulled out a book. “This is one of my oma’s journals. Interesting read…” She opened to where she had a book mark. “‘Busy last four days, finally have time to write. We are in Cologne, arrived five days ago. I met with some other members of Aegis’—that’s the resistance group she was part of. ‘Among them were three Blutbader. While our first meeting was tense and we nearly came to blows, we managed to come to an understanding that we are all here to fight against the Nazis and free their hold on Paris and the rest of their stolen territories.’”

“Wait, so your grandmother worked closely with Blutbader spies?” Monroe asked excitedly.

“Yep. She says their names were Raul Besser, Kurt Schulte, and Olaf Ackerman.”

Monroe sat up straighter. “Hold on, Ackerman? Olaf Ackerman?”

“Yeah?”

“…Huh…”

Sloane frowned. “What?”

“Nothing, just…that was my great uncles name. He was a newsreel editor in Berlin back in the 20s…”

Sloane blinked in surprise, looking down at the journal. “…Huh…” She smiled faintly. “Oma says they were spies working in the news industry…” She held out the book to him.

“No way,” Monroe said, taking it to look at, fingering over his uncle’s name.

“Yeah. Oma liked Olaf. Thought he was funny, but said he was a good spy. And she does mention his cover was something with the news hounds, using cameras…”

Monroe stared down at the page. “Damn. Uncle Olaf was even more interesting than I thought…No one ever mentioned being a spy or working in a resistance group. And I guess I carry on a family tradition of working with Grimms.”

“And mine for working with wesen,” Sloane agreed. The toasted each other, half joking half serious. Rosalee smiled brightly in relief, going back to sorting through her goods without worry.

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you haven't guessed, this is based on Peter and the Wolf, with Peter being the bad guy. I thought this would be the best point to have her and Monroe finally start getting along--I didn't want to keep drawing that out. I know in one of the books (Icy Touch) Monroe goes over his reason for being wieder as accidentally killing a park ranger while woged with Angelina. But I'd come up with this before even knowing about the novels and I liked this version. I'm also not sure how much I'm going to consider books and comics canon because A) I still need to read some of them and B) this focuses mainly on the TV show and really nothing from the books or comics is referenced it seems. So I guess consider this a bit of a divergence if you do consider them canon. 
> 
> Translations:  
> Zischende-Federn--Hissing Feathers. Gooses hiss and are sometimes really aggressive, and I wanted to do that rather than a duck like in the story.
> 
> Zirpende Stimme--Chirping Voice. Song bird like in the story
> 
> Petrevski--The last name means something along the lines of "descendant of Peter"


End file.
